Welker Trails Werewolf
by Laniebeth19
Summary: How would the gang come together if they were high school students today? What would it take for four very different teenagers to end up solving a mystery together?
1. Chapter 1

**FPOV **

"Jones, get over here!" the gruff voice called from his office.

I waved Matt and Kyle on, and ducked into the blue and white covered room. The entire school was done in Glenfield colors, but the principal's office just spewed school pride. I leaned up against one of the blue chairs in front of Mr. Price's desk and waited for him to speak. Overhead the bell for class rang and I smirked- I loved missing math.

"Tonight's the Deacon Hill game," he barked. "You boys got your bases covered?"

My smirk only grew at the fact that Price was asking me and not our 'captain', that wimp Jacobs. Everyone knew that I carried the team, despite the messed up rule that only seniors could be captain. I ran my hand through my blonde hair, which would need a trim soon, and assured him, "We're ready, don't worry about it."

"Hm," he looked mildly suspicious of the confidence. It made sense, Glenfield hadn't beaten Deacon Hill's lacrosse team in five years, but this year was different. This was our year. The town's private school might have thought that it was all-that, but this year we had them.

"Anything else sir? I gotta get to class," I stood up straight and gestured towards the door.

"Right. Here's a pass," he handed over a blue sheet of paper with his signature on it- he hadn't added a time, score- before continuing. "Listen, Jones. Town paper wants to do a spread on the team if we win this one. That's good publicity for the school. Publicity we need. You understand?"

"Sure."

"Alright, get to class."

I slipped out of his room and strolled down the hallway to class. Ms. Green tried to give me crap for being late, the old goon, but I just had to wave the blue paper in front of her face for her to leave me alone. A few kids shot me a look, wondering where I had been, but I shrugged them off- it wasn't anything that hadn't happened before.

"You going to Kyle's for the after-party tonight?" Matt asked as Ms. Green droned on about asymptotes.

"Probably. Whatever Mona wants to do, I guess," I shrug again. I had the game to focus on- what happened afterwards could be planned later.

"You two on again?" Matt looked surprised for some reason.

Mona Ballard and I had been on again off again for almost two years now. We'd be fine, then she'd bitch about something or another and we'd be off. Then one of us would get bored and we'd be on again. None of it really bothered me. I didn't act too differently whether we were on or off.

"Yeah, I guess so."

After Matt and Kyle followed me to the locker-room, where they promptly left me the hell alone. I had a ritual to go through. It was my junior year, my third year on varsity, and by now they all knew how to handle me on game days. I needed time in my own head to focus, and couldn't do that while dealing with anyone else's bullshit.

Hour two into my ritual and I was pretty much ready. My gear was on, and I had been studying plays to the point that they were basically burned into my eyeballs-

"Fred," a voice broke my concentration. What the hell?

"What?" I snarl, looking up to see who the hell would think that bothering me at such a time was so important.

Of course it would be one of the three people I could never cuss out- my old man. He stood at the door of the locker-room, in full uniform of course, looking around sternly. The only expression the guy had was stern, but he looked especially fierce at that moment. Probably the effect of being in a room with thirty-something teenage boys, being the chief of police, and just _knowing_ there were illegal substances somewhere in the room.

"What do you need, Dad," I asked, just wanting to get him out of there. I needed to get that focus back- and quickly.

"You remember that body that got called in a few weeks ago? Well some hiker that found a guy up by Welker Trails?"

"The animal attack, yeah?" I remembered; I sometimes went up to Welker Trails to run and hadn't been allowed since hearing that there was some man-eating beast lurking around.

"Well they called in another body. Same type of thing, but this guy lived. Hope he'll be able to give us an idea of what it is we're hunting."

His eyes were gleaming with the prospect of knowing what he should be looking for- and I knew he wasn't coming to my game anymore. "Alright, well I guess I'll see you later then."

"Your mother will be at the game."

"Okay, Dad."

He looked around, shooting everything one more suspicious glare, before nodding and backing out of the door. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics- as if someone were going to crack and confess just because of a glare. Then, I turned back to the play charts and started studying them again- I had time to make up for.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

"Freddie!" she shrieked loud enough to be heard over the roaring cheers of my teammates. We were huddled around Kyle's SUV, still clad in our uniforms, patting each other on the back for our win. There might have been a flask being passed around- but hell, we were celebrating!

She flounced over, blonde ponytail flying, still in her red and gold cheerleading uniform. She reached up to kiss me quickly before squealing, "You did so good!"

As great as Mona was, she really didn't know anything about lacrosse. She had three comments about the games in her arsenal, and I would undoubtedly hear all three of them at some point tonight. That I did good, that I looked hot, and that the other team sucked. I smiled at her anyways and thanked her for the compliment because well, she was still hot.

After showering and changing into more appropriate clothes for a celebration, we all piled into various cars to head over to Kyle's place. His parents were hardcore lacrosse fans, and allowed for any form of after party he wanted to throw. It was a pretty sweet deal.

As usual, Mona disappeared quickly in a fog of giggling and perfume. Whatever, she'd find her way back to me soon enough. We had a system, and it worked out just fine.

I found myself sitting with a kid I didn't know too well. Garrett Little was a senior and our starting benchwarmer. He always came to the parties, but tended to just nurse one drink the whole night and then offer himself as a driver for the rest of us. No big deal, it meant I wouldn't have to drive anywhere and I was okay with that.

"What're you stewing about over there, Gar?" I asked, making conversation.

"Senior Writing Assignment," he answered unhurriedly.

"Oh, yeah?" All seniors had gotten one of five questions, and had to write a full length essay answering it. Can't say I was looking forward to that. "What question did you get?"

"If I could be anything in the world- what would I be?"

"And?"

He shrugged. "A hero, I guess."

I scoffed. "Like a superhero?"

"Maybe." Another shrug. "Maybe I just want to save the day- like one of those ordinary heroes they show on the news. Maybe I'll pull a kid out of a burning building or stop a bank robbery. I don't know. But out of everything in the world, I'd want to be a hero. Maybe it sounds like a bunch of shit, but it's what I'm writing about."

That was the most I'd heard Garrett talk in years. I was a little shocked, and didn't get a chance to say anything to him- tell him that it sounded pretty damn good- when Mona bounced back to me. She always seemed to be bouncing, didn't she?

"Freddie baby," she slurred. She didn't hold her alcohol overly well.

"Don't call me Freddie," I said, out of habit mostly. She didn't do it often, but it still bugged the crap out of me.

"Sorry," she giggled.

We were alone by then, and I asked, "Hey, if you could be anything in the world, what would you be?"

Another burst of giggles, "A model- or an actress. I'd want to marry a movie star."

Wow. Reaching for the stars. Garrett's hero talk had sobered me up considerably, not that I blamed him for that. Guy was just answering the questions I had asked. But Drunk Mona didn't look so hot to Sober Fred. Maybe it was time to call it a night.

"I think I'm going to head home, Mona. My dad's gonna be out all night- gotta keep the moms company."

"What?" She started pouting. "You can't leave! We just got here!"

"It's not a big deal, I'm just heading home. You can catch a ride with one of the girls, right?"

"But I don't want you to go." The effect of her whines was somewhat diminished by the slurring.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow- okay?"

"Don't count on it," she snapped before stomping off.

Oh well, looks like we were off again.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

It was 12:37, and that reporter was late. I'd been woken up at 9:30am by my mother shoving the house phone in my ear, to have some guy yap about scheduling an interview. After waking up a bit, I'd agreed to meet him at 12:30 at the town diner. For someone eager enough to call that early on a Saturday, you wouldn't think he would be running late.

The bell rang- announcing a new customer, and I glanced over to see if he was finally making his appearance. Nope, but I wasn't overly disappointed. Because in walked Daphne Blake, one of the three hottest girls of Deacon Hill. I'd seen her once or twice at a few parties, but we didn't actually interact much. The two schools tended not to intermingle. I knew Mona hated her, because she and her two best friends had decided that cheerleading was beneath them or something. Not like it mattered to me.

She was a redhead, something that usually didn't look too good- but she pulled it off flawlessly. I guess her hair was a little blonder than straight red, but it still always looked good. It was long, too. Her eyes were this weird shade of blue that sometimes looked purple under the right lights. I'd never seen them purple, but it was a talked about phenomenon. She scanned the diner, looking for someone I guess, before walking straight towards me. Before I had a chance to react, she had slid into my booth.

"Frederick Jones," she said, as if double checking my identity.

"Daphne Blake," I smirked, teasing. "Call me Fred."

She glanced me over, "Sure."

"Listen, Daphne, I'd love to talk- but I'm actually waiting for a reporter from the paper. They're doing a spread on our big win against Deacon Hill, you know," I couldn't help bragging.

She quirked an eyebrow at me, something that I hadn't ever found sexy before. "Yeah, I know. I'm the reporter."

"What?" My eyebrows furrowed. "But you're just a kid."

"I intern with the paper. I'm a high schooler so they thought I could give the piece an interesting perspective. I though Dave said he covered this with you?" She seemed impatient.

"I must've missed it," I shrugged. All was good, this just meant I could talk to her some more.

"Right." She dug around in the purse that she'd set beside her in the booth. "Here's the deal, Jones. I have all of your stats. Your coach considerately sent those over a while ago. And this isn't your first spread in the paper."

"True," I grinned.

"I had to call you for an official interview- but I've basically got everything I need. We have pictures from last night's game, and I can easily reword what they have on you already. I can write this story already."

"Well, shit. Then why'd you make me come down here at all? Couldn't you have told me this over the phone?" I really hated having my time wasted.

"I wanted to give you a chance," she eyed me. Looking for what, I'm not sure. "There's a chance that I can write this differently from everything else that's been written so far. Give me something that hasn't been said about you- something that this town doesn't know already, and I'll run with it."

I leaned back in the booth, mulling it over. Everything that had been written so far had been pretty damn supportive. Basically the whole sports section worshipped me. Did I really want anything else written?

Something about her expression told me that she didn't think I'd go for it. Which made me want to. I hadn't wanted to prove someone so wrong in a long time. "I don't think I'm going to play lacrosse professionally."

She quirked that eyebrow again. "That's not what you've said before."

"A guy can change his mind," I pointed out.

"Care to share what you plan on doing?"

"Be a hero," I replied without thinking about it. Huh.

"A hero? Can you clarify a little bit?" She had her notebook open, and was scribbling in it- that had to be a good sign.

"Not really. I haven't thought it out a lot or anything- I just know that I want to be a hero. Like, save someone's life or stop a crime or cure a disease. Something that effects someone in a good way. More than playing lacrosse would do."

She thought that over for a moment. "You want to change the world."

"Yeah," I smiled, satisfied that she had found a better way of saying it. "I want to change the world."

**DPOV**

I drove back to the paper, my mind reeling. I was still in a slight daze as I made my way through the front entrance of the building, and over to my desk.

Sure, I'd heard of Fred Jones. He was the son of the Chief of Police, proclaimed lacrosse star of Glenfield High. A bit of an asshole. I'd seen him at a party or two, enough to know that his blonde hair and muscled body made him extremely attractive. In preparation for the story, I'd read enough of his past ones to think that I had a pretty good idea of what his character was.

But that whole 'hero' business sort of threw me. Those were pretty deep thoughts for a sixteen, almost seventeen year old to be having. Deep or not, though, they had resonated with me.

"You back from the Jones interview?" Dave came up to my tiny cubicle, always present coffee cup steaming in his hands.

"Um, yeah, it didn't take too long."

"Alright. Paul Price requested that we have the article in the Monday issue, think you can have it to me by tomorrow?"

"No problem."

"Good. Bye, Daphne. You coming in Tuesday?"

"Just like always."

"Right." And he was back to his large office.

I'd expected this little article to take twenty minutes of my time, a half an hour topes. But that was before Fred Jones had opened his mouth and spoken the words that changed things.

Did he really mean them, though? Maybe he was just saying things to impress a pretty girl- I reasoned. It wouldn't be the first time a guy had lied to impress me. I wasn't blind, I knew how they felt about my looks. But Fred had spoken with an air that made me think he'd thought it all over before. No, I believed that he was being serious in this hero business.

An hour and a half later I was finally saving and emailing it to Dave. Maybe I hadn't done it justice, but at least it was done. Dave could to final edits and if Fred decided he had a problem with it, he could deal.

I left the office building and stepped into my purple VW Bug, a sixteenth birthday present. My friends had been a little surprised that I hadn't asked for the luxury cars like they had, but the Beetle's cuteness just called to me. I liked having such a unique car. At least I would always know which one was mine.

My house was on the West side of town, the side opposite the paper. It wasn't exclusive by any means, but a general rule people on the west side of town tended to go to Deacon Hill. The houses were a little nicer, maybe a little bigger, but not ostentatiously so. Everything was tastefully done. I pulled in front of the Tudor-style house that my mom had designed and had built a few years back, parking in my spot on the rounded driveway.

"Daphne! There you are! Where have you been?" Mom scurried down the stairwell as I walked into the front foyer.

"At the paper, Mom. I had an article to finish."

She tsked, as she always did when it came to the paper. "You spend a lot of time there, darling. Is it too much work? I know your sisters all interned in high school, but are you really interested in journalism? Wouldn't you want to intern somewhere more fun? I have a friend who is starting her own interior design business, you know. Wouldn't that be much better?"

"Its fine, Mom," I insisted, walking into the kitchen, knowing she would follow. It wasn't even close to the first time we'd had this conversation, and it was practically scripted out by now.

I wouldn't ever tell her that I secretly agreed with her. That I actually wasn't happy with my internship at the paper. That when I had confessed I dreamed of being a journalist- I wasn't referring to covering the stories at the local paper that no one else wanted to cover. That when I contemplated journalism as a career I'd wanted to do the stuff that would actually make a difference to people. That I hadn't wanted to get some crappy internship that was marginally related to what I wanted to do because my dad played golf with its owner. Because it would open a can of worms that I didn't really need opened.

What would Fred Jones think of my dream? Was becoming a world-renowned journalist considered a hero? It would make a difference in the world at least, which he said he wanted to do.

Wait, why was I thinking about him? That couldn't be normal. He was just some Glenfield guy who I didn't need to be wasting mental faculties on. Its probably because I'd just spent hours writing about and researching him. I'd snap out of it soon enough.

"It just seems like a lot of work, darling. Too much stress. Stress causes wrinkles, you know."

"I know, Mom. I know."

"I just want you to take care of yourself," she patted my cheek. "Your sisters are darling girls, but there just wasn't too much hope for them in the looks department, bless their hearts. They didn't have to worry about stress lines, the dears."

Alice and Veronica were from Walter Blake's first marriage. Neither had been fortunate enough to get their mother's looks. I had gotten the new Mrs. Blake's model good looks. Of course, both girls had ended up at Ivy Leagues, majoring in competitive fields- but that wasn't brought up very often.

"It's fine, Mom."

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

Monday rolled around, and I got a little bit of crap at school for 'writing about the enemy', but not much. People at Deacon Hill were relatively nice.

"You want to go to the mall after school? You don't have your internship today, do you?" Chloe leaned against her shiny silver car, cigarette in hand. She'd always detested the fact that we wore uniforms, and it had spurred her love of stuffing her closets to the brim. I didn't really mind them- the black skirt, white shirt, purple blazer, and black tie were pretty cute as far as uniforms went. The guy's version in black pants, white shirt, black blazer, and purple tie, wasn't any worse.

"Yes! Mall!" Jess called from inside her car, where she was rooting around for mouth spray to hide the smoke smell from her overly strict father.

We three had a free period at the end of the day. School policy forbade us from leaving school grounds before the end of the day, so we always just ended up hanging out in the parking lot. Occasionally some of our other friends would ditch and hang out with us, but it was consistently us three. We'd been friends since diapers, and because of that had most of the same interests by now. Our hanging out all the time just seemed to make sense.

"I can't I have that tutoring, today. I can do Wednesday, though," I compromised, dropping my own cigarette and stomping it out on the asphalt.

"You got that Velma girl, right?" Chloe checked, even though I knew she knew the answer.

"That's right."

"She's good enough. Just play stupid for like, ten minutes, and she'll do whatever assignment it is for you."

"Make sure you dumb down her words a little, or the teacher'll catch on!" Jess added helpfully from her car.

"Alright guys," I rolled my eyes and unlocked the Bug. "I'd better head over there. Call me tonight if you want."

"Bye, Daph," they chorused- Jess sticking her head out of her vehicle to wave energetically and Chloe flicking her cigarette towards me in her own halfhearted wave.

I drove home, now more frustrated than ever that I had to deal with this whole tutor business. It had been my mother's idea, and I was doing it, no matter how idiotic it was. I didn't need a tutor. I had a fairly solid GPA, nothing lower than a B- nothing to be ashamed of. But Mother had heard from Chloe's mom that this girl, Velma something or another, would do assignments for the people she tutored. Thinking I had too much on my plate and that I needed to get out of my schoolwork to de-stress me, Mother lovingly hired this girl.

She wasn't there when I got home, but it wasn't more than twenty minutes when she was knocking on my front door.

When I opened it, I realized that I _did_ know her. I'd seen her around school a few times- she was one of the scholarship kids if I remembered correctly. She had the skirts and tights on from the uniform, but had replaced the blazer for a ratty orange hoodie. But she'd also been to the house before. She assisted Madame Gemini, who came in once a week to do my mother's horoscopes. Guess the girl had two part time jobs.

She lifted her big messenger bag and readjusted it on her shoulder, and spoke, "I'm Velma Dinkley. Your mother called and said you needed a tutor?"

I leaned against the door and studied her. Her hair was cut too short for her face shape, and her glasses weren't doing her any favors, but other than that she wasn't unfortunate looking by any means. "How much do you get paid to do this?"

"Oh," she looked down at the ground, apparently she was shy. "I have a minimum number of tutoring hours I have to complete for my scholarship, actually."

"Well come on in," I gestured for her to follow me into the house, and led her to the dining room. She set her bag down and plopped into the heat without hesitation.

"What do you need help with?" She asked, pushing her glasses back on the bridge of her nose.

"Nothing really," I shrugged. "I'm doing pretty well in school right now, actually."

"Oh," her eyebrows furrowed- as if trying to compute the fact that she wasn't needed. "Well you're in Chloe Harrison's English level, right? Doesn't your class have an essay due in a few days?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I could proof-read yours, if you want."

Before I could answer, the doorbell rang. I quickly grabbed my finished paper from my backpack that had been sitting on the table and flung it at Velma in answer, then hurried to the front door.

What do you know- there was Fred Jones standing on my front porch.

"Hi?"

"Oh. Hey Daphne. Sorry, I would have called but I don't have your number and my dad knew where your house was so…" he trailed off, running a hand through his hair and looking slightly sheepish.

"What do you need, Fred?"

"Can I come in?"

What the hell was going on . "Sure."

He stepped in to the foyer, but didn't move to go anywhere else. "Listen. My dad's the police chief, right?"

"Yeah." Everyone knew Chief Jones.

"Well a few weeks ago this guy was killed up at Welker Trails, and they figured it was an animal attack because his wounds matched up with that sort of thing. Then on Friday another guy got attacked, except this time he got found before he bled out." He was speaking really quickly, almost nervously, and it was a little hard to keep up.

"Anyways my dad was home last night and he was complaining about how the guy didn't really remember much from the attack. I guess he got hit over the head or something and blacked out. But my dad was more mad because the guy was confused about what he had seen. Apparently the victim swears up and down that he saw a man's shadow approaching him before he got hit.

"Which is crazy right? Because his wounds are like, one hundred percent animal bites. Like a wolf went to town on his leg and side. So that got me thinking- why the hell does this guy think that it was a man that he saw? Dad thinks the guy is either confused because of his trauma, or there is a witness who ran away or something.

"But what if its something else? This guy saw a man and then was immediately attacked by a wolf. I mean, what does that say to you? Sure, werewolves don't exist- but those old stories have to come from somewhere, right?

"I want you to help me figure out what's going on up at Welker Trails." He concluded his speech.

I ran over his words one more time in my head before spluttering, "Werewolf?"

"Yeah- maybe?"

"You think there's a werewolf up at Welker Trails." Maybe if I said it out loud he would hear just how crazy that sounded.

"Well I think its something!" he insisted. "And this could be a chance! A chance to make a difference! If we do this- listen to what the victim said- then we could change the whole freaking world! Imagine if we found something!"

"I'm sorry- but what exactly did you want _me_ to do about all of this?"

"You'd be the journalist on the case! I'd lead the investigating and you'd help me get it out to the people. Plus, you'd have sources at the paper, right?"

"This is crazy."

"Maybe. But its also a now-or-never chance."

I looked him over, and his blue eyes were brimming. It was a mix of hope and desperation in his eyes. This boy really wanted to make a difference- and apparently saw this as his one shot. So what if he was wrong? I'd go with him, we'd find that there wasn't actually a werewolf, and then he'd find something else to crusade for.

"And what makes you think I'd help you?"

"Come on, you intern at the town paper and are writing stories that they've already written three times." I didn't like how spot on his words were. "You're a Blake. And everyone knows that all the Blake daughters are achievers. This is a whole 'nother ball game than some shitty article. Its investigative journalism."

He was right. If nothing else it was a hell of a lot closer to what I actually wanted to do with my life than my internship at the paper. "Alright. I'm in."

His face lit up immediately at my words, it was cute.

"Seriously?" a voice spoke up. It was Velma, and she had come out from the dining room at some point.

"Um, hey. I'm Fred Jones," he stuck out his hand, trying to be polite.

She just looked at him, not offering his hand. "I know. What I didn't know was that you were a sap. Monsters aren't real. There's a logical explanation for the fact that the victim thinks he saw a person- and sorry to break it to you, but your father has it figured out already. Its more than normal for trauma to alter memories- memories themselves are extremely fickle. Especially because this man was hit on the head. You can't really trust anything that he thinks he saw."

Wow- guess Velma wasn't actually that shy. She barreled on before either of us could speak up. "Daphne, your paper is looking good. Surprisingly good, considering you'd go along with bogus like this. I'll be back next week."

She stormed out and it was a few moments before I could speak again. Fred was still staring at the door- where she'd exited. "That was Velma Dinkly. Scholarship kid from Deacon."

"So she's smart?" he looked back at me, and the hope/desperation mix was back in his eye. "Really smart, I mean?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Can you get her to help us? I mean, neither of us are stupid- but someone book smart could really add to the operation, you know? In the movies they always have some kids spurting facts all the time- and she could do that."

"You want Velma to help up find this thing? She called you crazy for even thinking it!"

"Come on Daphne! She could help! And the faster we find this thing- the faster you can write about it, right?"

I scowled, but nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

**AN:**

**So, the chapters are going to alternate between Fred and Daphne's POV and Velma and Shaggy's. Hit me up with a review and let me know what you were thinking while you read it. Or what you were thinking at other times. Whatever, just hit review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**VPOV**

Of course I'd heard of the wolf attacks. The GlenfieldTrailer Park wasn't overly far from Welker Trails- so news of the attacks had kept the neighbors buzzing for weeks. But this werewolf business- it was ludicrous.

I drove home slowly, but eventually got there.

It wasn't even a double wide, but I guess it was enough for the two of us. We didn't really need to live in it, Mom did well enough in her business that we _could_ afford a house, but she thought it made a statement. Believed that living in a trailer made her unique and mystical.

How she could think it was unique when it was surrounded by forty other trailers was beyond me. But that was my mother for you.

Ours was different than the rest, I had to admit. The various 'healing crystals', wind chimes, and bright posters sure made ours stand out. I was lucky that she hadn't decked out my car in it yet, to be honest. If she wanted our home to be a walking billboard for her crazy business then she could knock herself out, but I was keeping my car in its nice, normal shape.

She was born Paula Dinkley, but had renamed herself Madame Gemini when she started her business as a horoscope astrologist/palm reader/ mystical healer. I'd tried telling her that Madame Gemini didn't make a lot of sense as a name, but by the time she understood she'd already had various posters printed and it was too late.

"Velma, dear, hurry inside!" She opened the screen door and called out to my car. "I need your help moving something!"

I hurried in, dropping my bookbag on the couch as I moved into the kitchen. There, sitting on the table we ate at- was baby pig. It was just sitting there, and my mother was staring at it as if its arrival was a mystery to her. Actually, she could get pretty space headed- it probably was.

"Oh, Velma," she looked at me with an expression of helplessness. "I just can't decide, dear. What does this pig say to you?"

"Oink," I snorted a little at my own joke. Real attractive Velma.

"Be serious please, darling. One of my clients gifted this to me today, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it is supposed to mean. A pig can represent strength, which would be a compliment of sorts. But it also can represent greediness. Which does _this_ pig seem to be saying to you?"

"Well, who gave it to you?" I asked as I reached into the fridge for the iced tea I'd brewed the day before.

"Mister Williams- you remember him."

"Isn't he the one whose wife just died?" I leaned back against the counter.

"Well, it was a little under a year ago, yes. I've been helping him channel her spirit."

"Doesn't his son actually own a pig farm?"

"Yes- I think so," she was still studying the pig, looking for answers in its small, albeit it cute, face.

"Its about the time of year that a pig would have babies, Mom," I pointed out. She didn't turn towards me or respond in any way so I sighed and continued, "Is there a chance that his son had too many baby pigs on his hands and Mister Williams was just thought his psychic would want a baby animal?"

"Hm, maybe," she allowed. "I'll probably head over to the library and see what information I can get on pigs and their symbolism. Something more reputable than the internet, you know?"

"What are you going to do with it while you're gone?" I asked, not liking the thought of being put in charge of the thing.

"Can I just put it out in the yard? I have an old dog collar from when we had Brutus, wouldn't that work?"

They were probably the same size- the piglet and my mom's now dead miniature schnauzer- so, "Sure, probably."

"Alright, dear. I'll be at the library. Is there anything you want me to return while I'm there?"

"Yeah, actually there is. Hold on, let me get them," I hurried over to my room to get the two books that I had finished since my last trip to the library.

My room was small, but not unbearably so. It wasn't cramped- just comfortable. There were books everywhere, in really no discernable order. Every now and then I'd attempt to organize them, and they'd be in a nice order for a few days. Then I'd be reading a book and set it down somewhere, or want to quickly check a certain passage of another, and before I knew it there would be chaos again. I'd given up on maintaining order for the most part.

These two books, and a majority of the others in my collection, were mysteries. I loved mystery books. I loved reading them for the first time- challenging myself to try to solve it before the main character. But I also loved rereading them. I liked to try to guess where the author decided who the bad guy would be. I loved dissecting the motives of all of the characters- thinking about who else it could have ended up being.

I handed the two over to my mother before she hurried out the door. Glancing out, I noticed the pig standing there. That thing was going to become the next family pet- I could feel it. Maybe I was a psychic too. Ha.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

School had two different sides to it. There was the good- the challenging classes, the engaging professors- and there was the bad- the spoiled classmates, the uniforms. The uniforms weren't flattering. That was just a fact. Not all of us could be Chloe Harrison, Jessica James, or Daphne Blake and looks fabulous in anything. Some of us had drawn the short stick of looking like actual people.

Daphne Blake- there was a puzzler. I'd just sort of pegged her for the vapid sorority girl, after tutoring Chloe for a year I'd assumed they were all the same. But she'd proven me wrong right before proving me right.

Her paper had been practically flawless. Sure, she was in a lower level English class than I was, but she didn't need to be. Her paper had answered the prompt with surprising insight, and there were less than a few grammatical errors. She was a writer on par with the kids in my Advanced English class. She could probably have moved up and been fine, if all of her work was like that.

But then she had immediately jumped on board with Fred Jones' outlandish theory. Sure, she'd seemed a little hesitant at first- but I assumed that was just for show. Someone who actually recognized the craziness of his scheme would have questioned him a lot farther.

I hadn't even realized they were friends. Weren't Glenfield kids and those from Deacon Hill supposed to be enemies? High school rivalry, or something? I didn't really follow sports, but I wasn't blind enough to the animosity between the two groups.

I'd gotten into my first period, and was still contemplating the whole thing. Jones I understood. He was a dumb jock with a theory- that wasn't out of the realm of what I'd experienced before. But was Daphne really as smart as her paper had lead me to believe?

Maybe she hadn't written it, the idea popped into my head. There was an idea! And it seemed to be the most logical one. She had already gotten someone to write her paper, just as Chloe'd had hers written by me. She was still the girl I'd always assumed she was- and her hopping on board with Jones made a lot more sense to me.

I was just patting myself on the back mentally when I heard my name called. Apparently class had started while I was doing my figuring. And now the teacher was looking right at me. Crap.

"Yes?"

"Call from the office. They need you down there. You can leave your things here," he explained, looking at me strangely. Teachers weren't used to me spacing out.

Standing quickly, I made my way out of the room. What would the office need me for? I was scanning through a list of possibilities when I ran into someone.

"Sorry, sorry. I wasn't looking at where I was going," I said out of habit. It wasn't the first time that I'd bowled someone over because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.

"Listen we need to talk," her voice was a little surprising. I'd figured that I wouldn't talk to Daphne again until our next tutoring session, next Monday.

"Um, I can't right now, I have to go to the office." I tried to get around her, but she blocked my path.

"No you don't. I have office aiding this hour, I'm the one that made the call to get you out of class. We really need to talk."

Great. She was probably mad at the things I'd said yesterday. Sure, I might have gone over the boundaries considering we didn't really know each other. I'd spoke without thinking, and now it seemed it would pay for it.

"Fred wants you to help us," she said directly.

"What?" That was almost the opposite of what I'd been expecting.

"Fred wants you to come with us on search for his monster or creature or whatever." She probably thought she had clarified, but I still had quite a few questions.

"I think I made my opinion on his theory pretty clear yesterday."

"That's what I thought," she rolled her eyes. "But he was insistent. Thinks we need you. You're smart though, so maybe we do."

"Need me for what? Want me to calculate something for you?" I asked sarcastically. "Want me to write an essay for you on how ridiculous the concept of werewolves is? Sure, I'd love to help out!"

"If this is about his werewolf thing then don't worry about it. Its not like we're actually going to find one."

"I'm not worried that we'll find one, because we won't. I'm just refusing to have any part in an activity that is pretending like mystical beings actually exist." I had enough of that at home.

"Listen, Velma," she blew a breath out from between her teeth, looking frustrated. "I'm not going to lie. I know this is stupid. I recognize that there is no such thing as werewolves. But this is about more than that!

"This is a chance for Fred to try to be a hero. That's his biggest dream- did you know that? And this could be my only shot for a long time to try my hand at investigative journalism. Sure, there's no monster. But it's a chance to change lives anyways. That's why I'm doing this, and why I think you should too."

She sounded sincere. Okay, I took back my decision that she hadn't written that essay herself. The way she spoke- she was obviously the one who had written it. And she wasn't as one hundred percent on board with Fred's idea as I had thought. And her reasons for agreeing actually made some modicum of sense. But still.

"I don't want to spend my time working on something when I already know I won't find anything. Sorry Daphne." I shook my head and started to turn around, back towards class. But as I spun so did she, so that she was still positioned in my way, blocking my path.

"So then don't focus on finding this werewolf. What if you went out there trying to prove that there _wasn't_ a monster? What if your purpose was to prove Fred wrong? Then you'd be working towards an attainable goal, right?"

Well she sort of had me there, didn't she?  
"Fine."

"Great," she beamed. "I'll let Fred know that you're on board."

Well. There was that, then.

**SPOV**

"Did you go to school today?" Dad came out of his room running his hands over his eyes. He'd probably just woken up.

"Wasn't feeling well," I offered up the excuse that I knew he wouldn't really buy.

"Hm," he grunted, but he didn't press me. He didn't want to bother with it, I guess. Instead he walked into the kitchen and started pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

Even with the TV on, I was hyper aware of his presence. The guy wasn't around much, but when he was I always noticed just how little we interacted. Our silences were probably record breaking- I should look that up later. The longest I could remember was six days without speaking.

So I started talking about the only subject we ever talked about- his job. "You working tonight?"

"Covering for Chris, yeah. Just a single shift 'cause I wasn't scheduled. Actually I'll be heading out soon; you'll be alright for dinner?"

"Yeah, me and Scoobs'll be fine." I looked over at Scooby from my perch on the couch. The Great Dane was sleeping on the ground in front of the door. Good luck getting out, Dad; Scooby doesn't wake up to anything.

He disappeared into his room for a few minutes and I could focus on the game show that I'd flipped it to. Then he was back and my attention was again drawn away. Now he was in his blue jumpsuit- the factory uniform. I thought he looked just like the factory workers in my history textbook, but he always claimed not to see the resemblance.

"I left five bucks on the counter. Think you can pick up some more cereal before tomorrow morning? We're almost out."

"Sure thing." I didn't look up from the TV as he scrambled around, doing the things he always did before leaving for work. Once he had shoes, wallet, and jacket ready to go, he jumped over Scooby and was gone.

I looked over at the measly five dollar bill laying on the dirty countertop and chuckled to myself. We didn't have any food in the house- that was a certifiable fact. So that five dollar bill was supposed to be my dinner fund, money for the cereal, and most likely lunch and breakfast for the next day. He'd be working late tonight- it would be four by the time the bus got to the factory and he then had to work an eight hour shift. He wouldn't be up to give me more cash until I got back from school.

Dad meant well, he didn't mean to leave me stranded money wise. He just didn't have a very good concept of what things cost.

The man tried his best, I could see that. He worked his forty hour week churning out car batteries. And he picked up any shift he could for the extra money. And he always covered the basics: electric, water, and cable. Those three when coupled with his small gambling addiction- there wasn't always a lot of cash left over.

But I made it work. I'd just gotten a job of my own. Which was why I could pull out my own wallet and see the six twenties in it. Thinking of it, I needed to work that night. If Dad was going to be off the next day, which the schedule posted on the fridge indicated, then we'd be a few hundred poorer by the nights end. You'd think with all the practice he had, he wouldn't be so bad at it. But he was.

"Time to wake up, Scooby," I called over to the mutt. Dad had given him to me for my twelfth birthday, we'd gotten him from the pound. I'm not sure what breed he is- I just know that he's big as hell and smarter than most people I know.

Of course Scoobs didn't respond, except to snore a little bit. So I did what I usually did and threw my shoe at him. When that didn't work I chucked the remote. I never hit him, but the crashing sound was enough to get him up.

"There you go, boy. Go get your leash, we're going out." He rose and obediently went into my room and picked up his leash from where I'd last thrown it. He always remembered where that freaking thing was, no matter where I put it. Good thing, too, because I sure as hell never did.

We started our walk towards the grocery store, and two minutes into it Scooby was barking like crazy. I looked around for what could set him off like that, and snorted when I saw it. Of course someone would have a pig. A pig on a leash for crying out loud. How trailer-parky could this place get?

Dad had been born and raised in GlenfieldTrailer Park, and I hated to think it but I probably would stay here like he had. He'd gone to GlenfieldHigh School just like me, and then moved into his own trailer when he graduated. Of course, his story was a little different from mine in that he knocked up his girlfriend when they were both seventeen. She'd been from the park as well, but had always had visions of getting out.

Which was why when she had her midlife crisis when I was eleven she ran away to live with her sister in Detroit. Said she'd never wanted to end up trapped in a trailer, and that's what she would be if she had stayed. Whatever.

I pulled out the cell phone that Dad didn't know he didn't pay the bills for and checked my messages. Well, looked like I had work tonight after all- good.

"Come on Scoob, we'll take this and then we can head over to the store."

My friend Alex took care of finding the customers for me. He was a real people person, and could sniff out potential buyers like it was his job. Which, it sort of was. He got a cut, anyways.

I got the stuff from a kid I used to go to school with, until he'd dropped out the year before. I didn't know who he got it from and I didn't really want to know, it was easier to just not know. Didn't really matter where he got it, he gave it to me and I got it to the people that Alex found. It worked and we were all happy enough.

Apparently some freshmen wanted some of the action. Freshmen seemed a little young to be getting into this stuff, but I shrugged it off. It wasn't my place to judge.

Scooby and I jogged over to the movie theatre, where Alex had told me this kid would be. And yes, just as he had promised, there stood two awkward looking kids. They were dressed in almost all black- oh lord.

I approached and watched them appraise me. I knew that I wasn't what they would be expecting. With the way they were dressed they were probably expecting some buff thug, not a skinny junior in a green sweatshirt and non-matching maroon athletic shorts. My fashion sense had always sucked- to the point that when I was a kid one of my teachers had wondered if I was colorblind.

"One of you kids Frank?" I asked once I was close enough.

"I am," the blonde one stepped forward a little bit.

"Alright, Alex said you were cool paying thirty. Still good?"

"Yeah," the kid nodded his head a few more times than he needed to, shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out three wrinkled ten dollar bills. "Here."

"Cool," I grabbed the money, took my ever-present backpack off and slipped the cash in it. I pulled out the little bag of goodies and tossed it to the silent one. "Pleasure doing business with you two."

The silent one shoved the package in his pocket quickly, while Frank asked, "You're Shaggy Rodgers, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

He didn't seem to have another point, he just looked down at his feet and then scurried off with his friend. Okay then.

Maybe what I did wasn't legal, but I liked knowing that I could cover my dad's ass when he forgot stuff like saving enough to buy me shoes. Or food. You know, the luxuries.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

"Hey!" Oh no. That wasn't a friendly 'hey'; that was a very angry, very big sounding 'hey'.

I didn't turn, hoping that the angry 'hey' hadn't been directed at me.

No such luck, apparently. Because Fred Jones grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. His face looked angry enough to have bellowed that 'hey'. Or maybe it was one of the two angry, just as big, guys behind him.

"What the hell are you doing messing with freshmen?" Fred snarled, coming a lot closer to me than I was inherently comfortable with considering his level of anger.

"Um, what?" Play dumb, maybe Thing 1 and Thing 2 can relate.

"I get home from practice yesterday and my kid brother and his stupid friend are stoned out of their minds. I ask 'em where they got the stuff and they give your name! What the hell, man?"

"Hey! I didn't know that kid was your brother!" I put my hands up in defense, because the guy looked like he was ready to pound me.

"Did all that stuff kill your brain cells?" he asked, ignoring my remark. "My dads the Chief of Police, if he had found Frank and gotten your name you'd be in so much shit! Hell, me beating your ass is nothing compared to where you'd have been if it'd been the Chief."

"Listen, bro. Your brother sought _me_ out. Not the other way around. You gonna stand there and blame for that?"

"You shouldn't be selling in the first place."

"Maybe not, but you haven't had a problem with it before," I pointed out calmly. I saw on the discovery channel that talking calmly to wild animals decreased the risk the them tearing you limb from limb. It seemed appropriate here and now.

He scowled, then snapped, "Kyle, Matt, get out of here. I've got it from here."

Thing 1 and Thing 2 shuffled off, with the helpful advice of "Don't mess up your hand too much, Fred."

"You don't go near my brother again, agreed?" he asked me, his stance shifting. I could tell I wasn't in the clear yet, but it didn't seem like I was in any immediate danger of getting my butt handed to me.

"I hear you, man. Fifty feet away from the kid at all time, if you want."

He eyed me speculatively- probably deciding whether I was telling the truth or not. Hopefully he would like what he saw.

"I'll make you a deal, Rodgers," he spoke after a while. "I've got something going down on Friday, and I could use a guy like you on it."

What was that supposed to mean? "A- A guy like me?"

"Yeah. Someone used to shady shit. Cool under pressure. All the stuff a deal would be," he looked me over again, as if measuring me up.

"What the hell are you doing that might end up being shady?" I asked, baffled. Fred Jones was one of those jocks who stayed on the light side. He dabbled a bit in booze and girls, but anything more was looked down upon. He was the exact opposite of someone who would be involved in something that would require a dealer's help. No matter what it was, though, I knew I'd end up doing it- and so did he. I didn't want my butt beat into the next century, and this was my way to get out of it.

He grinned an almost genuine smile, "Monster hunting."

Shit. What had I gotten myself into?

**AN:**

**Okay folks, you've met all four now. Any favorites? Drop me a note, let me know if you want to hear any specifics from their pasts- if I didn't explain things enough to your liking. xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously on WTW- The whole gangs in! Yipeeee**

**FPOV**

By the time Friday rolled around, Mona and I were still 'off'. Which was actually a good thing, because no one gave me too much crap about bowing out of the bonfire early. All I had to do was say I wanted to go home and ice my shoulder and they were more than happy to let me go- terrified that I'd actually hurt it. But if Mona had been with me she wouldn't have just let me go off, leaving her. And I guess I'd also feel bad about abandoning her.

But as it was, I could get away without any hassle. Hopefully the other three wouldn't have any issues either. I'd been very specific about meeting at Welker Trails during the town bonfire. With everyone there, we'd have the best chance of getting to and poking around the area that the wolf had attacked. I wasn't too worried about Rodgers being there, I'd basically threatened him into coming. And Velma didn't seem like the type to be going to major town events. It was Daphne that I pictured having trouble slipping away from the festivities. I wondered, did she have some guy holding her hand and keeping her from leaving, like I usually had Mona?

A dog bark had be tensing up. Crap, who was walking their pooch this far out in the trails at dark? Sure, there were lampposts, but why weren't they at the bonfire! If someone else was out here we might need to postpone. There was no way word about my being around a crime scene could get back to Chief. And it _would_. Town couldn't keep its freaking mouth shut.

"Shush, Scoobs," Rodgers' voice came through a few trees. Guy had apparently decided that hiding in the brush was the best course of action.

"Rodgers? Its me," I spoke, stopping so that I could see where he came out from.

The guy appeared, and my eyes were drawn to the absolutely huge-ass dog at his side. Had this guy really brought his dog monster hunting?

Predicting my question, he explained hurriedly. "I don't really leave him home alone, except for school."

Huh, okay that was a little weird, but whatever. It wasn't my concern.

"Velma?" he spoke again, no longer addressing me. I turned, and sure enough, there was the brunette heading up the pathway, eyes squinting at us from behind her glasses.

"Norville?" she asked once she was closer and had a better look at him. I snorted; I couldn't help it- Norville?

"Uh, yeah. People call me Shaggy now," he looked a little embarrassed. I would be too if my name was Norville. Poor guy.

"How does someone get nicknamed Shaggy?" a new voice asked. Somehow Daphne had snuck up on us during the revelation of Rodgers' real name.

She was wearing a purple zip-up hoodie and dark jeans, her hair tied back into a respectable braid and a non-matching green headband in place. None of it really worked together, but on her it looked great. She was exuding the smell of smoke, which meant that she, too, had been at the bonfire before this.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, interrupting my overview of her.

"The place that they found the surviving victim is right up this path- where the two trails diverge. I figured we'd take a look around, see if we could find anything worth looking into later."

"You think we're going to find something that the police missed?" Velma asked, sounding incredulous. "We're just a bunch of kids."

"And a dog," Rodgers added helpfully. She sort of glared at him, but huffed and started walking up towards the fork in the pathway.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the part that they usually showed on the crime shows. What sort of thing was I looking for. The other three were looking towards me to start, so I took a breath and sort of barreled in. I stepped into the woods area, brushing back bits of greenery to get through.

If there was something out here, then shouldn't there be tracks? Or evidence of some kind that it had been there. Especially something as big as a werewolf. I scanned the area, my eyes desperately looking for something that could prove that it wasn't just a normal wolf out here.

It was dark- I should have thought of flashlights.

"What are you doing?" Velma screeched- her voice breaking up what had been a solid fifteen minutes of silent searching.

"What?" Rodgers replied cluelessly.

"You can't just leave that!" she yelled.

"What?" he repeated. I had to give him that one- she hadn't really made it clear what she was upset about. What a girl.

"Your dog just took a shit and you didn't clean it up." Daphne pointed to a far tree, where apparently the big dog had just been.

"Oh. So what?" he looked at the two girls, clearly not understanding why they were bringing it up in the first place.

"Scoop your dog's poop, bro," I advised, wanting to just get back to my fruitless scanning of the ground floor.

"I didn't bring a bag with me!" he said, exasperated. "This is the woods! Who cares?"

"Its really irresponsible of you to go anywhere without a doggy bag," Velma scolded. "And our location is irrelevant- its still necessary that you pick up your animal's excrement. That's the law."

"Oh my god, fine!" he dropped the dogs leash and pulled his backpack around so that he could dig in it. He messed inside of if for a few seconds, not really allowing anyone a peak inside, before coming out with a gallon-sized zip-loc bag. I half expected the dog to bolt while he was rummaging, but the thing stayed calmly at his side, intently studying something off in the distance. That thing was pretty chill.

Shaggy stomped over to the tree and bent over, muttering curses as he awkwardly maneuvered to get the poop scooped without actually touching it. Perhaps it would have been proper form to help him out, or at least stop staring, but I couldn't bring myself to do either. It was just too funny watching his struggle.

My eyes started to wander after a few seconds, though. There- that bush was sort of lopsided, wasn't it? "When you're done scooping, check that bush to your right."

He dutifully did so, guy was still afraid I'd kick his ass into tomorrow, and I observed as he poked around.

"Wouldn't the dog just have done that? I don't think its overly suspicious," Velma spoke, revealing that she had been watching.

"Scoobs doesn't really poke around. He's a pretty mellow dog," Shaggy defended him.

Looking over at the dog, which was still sitting- leash laying unheld on the ground- right were he had been left. Sure, he was watching us now, but he didn't seem overly tempted to get up and observe any more closely. Yeah, I definitely agreed with the 'mellow' label.

"Holy shit, there's something here!" Shaggy exclaimed, instantly reclaiming my focus.

"Well? What is it?" Daphne entered the conversation then.

"Um, a footprint. Shoeprint, really. But it was like hidden under the leaves. Like someone accidentally stepped into the bush," he explained, shifting leaves around to try and get a better look at it.

"That could have easily been an officer when they were picking up the victim," Velma huffed.

"No, that doesn't really make sense. The crime scene was over at the trails, why would the cop have come all the way back here and stepped into a bush?" Daphne challenged, and I wanted to do a fistbump. She was right, this wasn't some cop's print. This proved that someone else had been back here. My theory wasn't proven yet- but it was well on its way to being so.

"Here, I'll take a few pictures of it." And he did just that.

"Okay, fine. We have some ambiguous shoeprint of questionable origin. Can we go now?" Velma asked. "I don't know about you guys but I'm absolutely freezing."

She was right- the temperature had dropped considerably since coming out here. Despite its being Spring, the nights could still get pretty chilly.

"Alright guys, lets head out. We'll figure out a time to meet again, though. This thing isn't over."

I thought I heard something like "of course not" from Velma, but chose to ignore it.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

I groaned, rubbing my neck. Practice had been killer today. Coach had decided that we needed to spend the day just conditioning. Which meant running. A lot of running.

Until that idiot Korman had decided to ram into me. Coach had sent me back to the locker room to cool down after almost taking the twerp out. Kid was just a sophomore, didn't ever play. Hell, a black eye probably would have _helped_ his status at school. Would have been a favor.

I sat down on one of the benches and ran my hands over my eyes.

I was frustrated. It was Wednesday, and I'd yet to think of another step in this whole crime-solving thing. We had some pictures of a footprint, so what? I was blank on what to do with that. We didn't even know for sure that it was from the night of the attack. For all we knew it was some other person snooping around the woods. Or not even snooping- maybe just innocently walking.

Gah.

Daphne had called me Monday night, telling me that she had documented our night, for posterity or something, and that she'd printed out a couple copies of the pictures of the print. She'd offered to drive a copy over to me, but I'd declined. I had it on my phone, I didn't really need a hardcopy to stare at blankly as well.

She'd asked if I had any other ideas, and when I said no, she admitted that she didn't either. And I knew that the other two wouldn't be any help. Velma flat-out didn't believe that we would ever find anything, and Shaggy wasn't in it for anything other than to protect his own backside. Sure, I was glad that they were now involved, but I couldn't really count on them to think up our next move.

As I'd gotten into the habit of doing over the past few days, I pulled up the clearest picture of the print and started looking at it. Shaggy had placed his own foot beside it for comparison, so we knew that it was about a size ten.

If I'd needed any other evidence to debunk Velma's cop theory, then I would have had it upon initially looking at the picture. The treads of the sole were still there, and I knew for a fact that they were not the ones that a cop wore. Benefits to being the Chief's son.

But the treads _did_ look a little familiar. I'd thought that maybe they would match a pair that I myself owned, but no such luck. I'd gone through all of my shoes and all of my brothers, but no matches. That had been Sunday.

My head snapped up then, as an idea hit. Of course!

I was in a room with _at least_ thirty other guys' pairs of shoes. Why not give it a try? It was at least something to do, so I could report that I'd gotten something done.

I hurriedly started moving around the locker room. Most guys left their shoes out, right in front of their lockers. No one really had to worry about theft because really, who would steal shoes from someone on the lacrosse team in such a small town? The guy who'd lost his shoes would be on the lookout for them, and whoever had the misfortune to show up wearing them would suffer. Not really an ideal situation for a thief.

Bingo. We had a match. Whoever our guy was, he had been wearing a pair of Adidas. The treads were identical to Scotty's, and now that I was looking at it, I could see the slight square on the print where the logo probably went. It just hadn't gotten through, either on the print or on the picture. They were so much the same that if Scotty's shoes hadn't been three sizes too big, I would have questioned him.

I whipped out my phone and texted all of them, "The print is a size ten Adidas sneaker."

It was something, at least.

**DPOV**

"You seem different, Daphne," Jess spoke as we meandered through the school hallway. We were headed towards Culinary class, we didn't have to rush.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you've been moving with this sense of purpose the past weeks. It's a good thing, don't worry," she smiled at me.

"Had I not been doing that before?"

"No, I mean you had. But its more now. Like, your walk is different. I don't know, ignore me," she laughed a little bit at herself, then walked into the doorway to our classroom.

I followed her, and sat down next to my assigned cooking partner. We'd both been upset upon learning that we wouldn't be selecting our own partners, but the guy I'd gotten hadn't ended up being all that bad. He was quiet, a brunette that I was fairly sure was in the marching band. His name was Chris, and he usually did a majority of the cooking. Which I was grateful for because I honestly had little to no business being in a culinary class, except that Jess had wanted someone to take it with.

In my seat, I started contemplating my best friend's words. Walking with a purpose? That sounded good, right?

But what would have caused it? The only thing that had changed in my life was this mystery-solving thing. That must have been the source of this new walk that Jess had noticed. I wondered briefly if Chloe had seen it too- she was the least observant of all of us, and if she had seen it, it was safe to say that it was pretty obvious.

Now that I thought about it, though, I _had _noticed feeling a little better since this adventure had started. Okay, it wasn't much of an adventure so far, but it was at least _something. _

Before all of this, my life had been fairly meaningless. Now, though, I was doing something. I was investigating. Even if what I was investigating was bogus, and least I was close to doing what I wanted to be doing for the rest of my life. I was getting closer to the dream, so to speak. I wasn't wasting my life interning at a paper that was the opposite of what I wanted to be doing.

It was a nice feeling, I sighed happily to myself. And we were sort of moving along with the whole thing. We'd found that print last week, and Fred had gotten some sort of scoop on it yesterday. We now had a print that was at least linked to the crime itself. That was good, right?

And Fred probably had something planned for us all to do next.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"Hi Daddy!" I exclaimed as I walked into the house that night. I'd still needed to spend my obligatory six hours a week at the paper, but it had seemed less dreary because I knew that I was doing _actual_ journalism on my own.

Dad was actually Congressman Walter R. Blake, which meant that he was rarely at home. It also meant that he had a ridiculously cool job, and always won at Career Day when he came in to speak. He was originally a blonde, but the grays were starting to creep in. He always joked that a year in politics was two in the 'real world'. But other than his hair, he hadn't really aged since I was a little girl, despite his many years on the hill.

He grinned at me and waved, but the phone pressed up against his ear kept him from being able to properly greet me. I just smiled at him and made my way over into the kitchen, where I knew Mom would be. She never usually cooked, but when Dad was home she was a regular Happy Housewife.

She was messing around with the oven when I walked in. I didn't really want to interfere, afraid that something bad could come out of scaring her while she was in the kitchen. It had happened before.

"Hey there Princess, how was school today?" he walked in, having wrapped up his phone call, and sat down at the table. This wasn't the dining room table, it was just the one that we casually used for breakfasts or occasional lunches.

"Good, we started our baking unit in Culinary today."

"Fantastic! And how's that internship treating you? Dave giving you enough to do?" he asked.

I smiled and nodded, but was grimacing on the inside. Dad was honestly just like Mom, but he just went about it a different way. Instead of openly telling me that I shouldn't be focusing too much on my future, he just placated me with the occasional insincere question. Mom would flat out tell me that I didn't need to work hard- that my looks would compensate for all of that stuff- but Dad didn't. I just knew that he was thinking it. It was clear in the way that he praised the tests I bombed as if they were honestly the best it could do. It was how he had gotten me that internship and expected it to be at a level that would really challenge me. It was there, and I really didn't like it.

"She finally got a tutor, Walter," Mom piped in from her place at the stove. "That Dinkley girl that the Harrisons use."

"Good, good. I'm happy for you, Princess," he smiled at me. "There's nothing more admirable than admitting when you need a little help and then getting it. Makes you better, really."

But I didn't need help! My grades were fine- more than fine. The tutor was just Mom's freaky idea that actually doing my own homework would give me wrinkles in twenty years.

Though, maybe his words could count for something _other_ than school.  
We were stuck. Sure, I hadn't wanted to think it before, but it was the truth. We were just a few kids, what did we know about solving a mystery? Dad was smart, at the very least he had a ton more life experience than we did. He could help us out. Like he said, asking for help wasn't necessarily a sign of weakness. And if it helped us solve this thing, then the others would thank me for it!

"Actually Dad, I sort of have a question for you."

"Shoot," he looked at me with his politician 'I'm-listening-and-I-care' look.

"Right. Well me and a few friends are sort of working on a project? Like, outside of school. Its got to do with journalism, sort of. And we're trying to solve this problem as a group. But we're sort of stuck on what to do next for it, so I was wondering if-"

"Whoa there, honey," he interrupting, folding his hands together in front of him at the table. "Slow down a little. Did you say you were working on an extra project outside of school? Is this for a class?"

"No, its just something that a friend thought up and I agreed to help with."

"Are you planning a party?" Mom asked.

"What? No, we're not planning a party. I'm helping them out, using investigative journalism and-"

"Investigative journalism? Princess, is this for the paper?" he asked me.

"No, but-"

"Daphne, you told me that you wanted to be a journalist and I went out and found you an internship to get your feet wet. But you've only been there for a little over seven months. I don't really think that that is enough to have mastered the entire field, do you?"

"Well I wasn't saying that-"

"I really think that you should be focusing on what Dave is assigning you for right now. He's helping to groom you as a journalist, and it would really be in your best interest to just follow what he's having you do."

"And what do you know?" Mom chirped. "One day you might run that paper!"

Run the paper. Right, that was as high as I would ever get, as far as she was concerned. Run the paper until a suitable boy comes along to take care of me.

"What a marvelous idea, isn't it Princess?" Dad beamed over at Mom, as if she'd just _actually_ had a good idea.

"Now," he looked back at me. "Are your questions settled?"

He hadn't actually answered anything, surely he understood that? "Sure, Dad."

**AN:**

**A little shorter than previously, but ah well.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously on WTW: They find a footprint, and not much else. **

**VPOV**

I couldn't believe that I was doing this.

I was going to make a complete fool of myself. And why? Because I'd gotten myself roped into this whole thing, and for some reason felt obligated to see it through.

I'd just been at school on Tuesday, a little over a week since our dalliance in the woods, reading a book at the school library. It was one of the few mystery books the school had that I'd only read once, so I was excited to have picked it up again. But, I wasn't able to get very far when I was interrupted.

"Hey so, we need you to do something." Daphne had mastered the art of materializing out of thin air, apparently. I jumped at the sound of her voice, my book falling to the floor and my glasses almost following it.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" I didn't answer, I figured she could put that one together for herself. "Can I sit down?"

I gestured and she smiled a bit, taking the chair opposite me at the big wooden table that I'd previously been enjoying. As I reached down to rescue the novel, she continued, "So Fred called me last night, and he had an idea. You know, for the case."

"I don't know if you could really call it a case," I mutter. I hadn't really intended for her to hear me, but I guess I didn't do a very good job because she rolled her eyes a little. "Sorry. What was his idea?"

"Well the shoeprint was sort of a bust right? So Fred figured we should put a pin in it and come back to it later, if we need to. He thought that talking to the victim, the live one, would be a good next step."

"He get that one off of CSI too?" I asked dryly, opening my book and trying to find my page again. Ah, there it was.

"Does it really matter where he got it?" she snapped. "What's important is that he has a plan. Unless you've come up with something?"

I took a moment to look around the library before answering. And there were a few people looking our way. Looks like popular Daphne Blake talking to nobody Velma Dinkley was a puzzle that the Deacon Hill students were having trouble figuring out. Of course.

"Fred wants to get into the hospital to talk to the guy. His name is Victor Freeman, and he's still a patient there," Daphne informed me, oblivious to the stares.

"You can't just walk into the hospital and expect to talk to him," I pointed out.

"Well, obviously. That's where you come in."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have an internship right now, right? Deacon Hill students intern at the CountyHospital all the time! All you have to do is go in there and say you're interested and they'll give you a tour. You find Freeman, then Fred and I can figure out how to get to him from there."

"Why can't you do it?" I challenged. This all seemed to be her and Fred's plan- I didn't see why I needed to be involved.

"Because I already have an internship. And honestly, my grades aren't the kind that an aspiring doctor would have. No one would take me seriously."

She might have been right there. "Fred? Shaggy?"

"Fred's so busy with lacrosse, no one would believe that he had enough time to put into an internship; plus I think he's in the same grade situation as I am. And Shaggy said he was afraid of doctors."

"So I'm the last person you asked?"

"Don't be like that," she sighed. "I know you aren't crazy about being involved in this at all, so I figured I'd cross the others out as possibilities before coming to you."

I crossed my arms, "I don't really want to do it."

She crossed hers as well. "And I don't really care. You're a part of this now Velma, whether you like it or not. That means you sort of have to."

"It does not!" I couldn't really argue that I was a part of it, but that it no way would make me do this.

"Hey Daph! What are you doing here? Don't you have lunch right now?" A bouncy, blonde girl was now standing in front of the table. I didn't know her name, and didn't care to.

"Oh, hey Ness, yeah I'll be there soon. I just had to ask Velma a favor."

The girl turned towards me, as if Daphne's pointing me out made her see me. "Oh, hi there. Velma, right? Great to see you. What were you two discussing?"

I let Daphne answer that, because the question had really only been directed at her. This girl didn't want my input. Daphne glanced apologetically towards me before replying, "She'd my tutor, Ness."

"Oh!" the blonde girl exclaimed, as if the world suddenly made sense again. And to her, it probably did.

Because Daphne Blake talking to nerds was not something that happened in this girl's world, I was sure.

Now that it was clear that I wasn't of any actual importance to Daphne, the girl felt free to ignore me thoroughly. She was talking a mile a minute about some party, and I sighed. Okay, then. I picked up my book and started reading again.

"Hey Velma," Daphne addressed me again; I glanced up and she was standing now, with bouncy blonde at her side, their arms linked. "I'm heading to the cafeteria now. But you'll be available to help on Thursday, won't you?"

And, for reasons still unknown to me, I'd answered her, "Sure."

Which led me here. Standing next to one of the many doctors at CountyHospital, who was explaining excitedly about the intern process. I'd called the hospital Tuesday night after my library encounter to set up the initial interview. The man I'd talked to seemed more than willing to accommodate me once I'd mentioned being a Deacon Hill student.

"We'll still need to check with the school regarding all of this, but that shouldn't be a problem," the man talked on. "We've been very satisfied with all of our Deacon Hill interns to date, and are very excited to have you joining the team."

The team? Oh lord. I zoned out again, not seeing the point in paying attention to him explain rotation schedules to me. I didn't actually need the information. I wasn't really planning on following through with this whole internship thing. I didn't even want to be a doctor! This whole exercise was for the case.

"And this is Nurse Deckett. She'll be giving you a tour of the facility. If you have any questions after your tour, please feel free to shoot me an email," he smoothly handed me off to a frazzled looking nurse. Her brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and that combined with the circles under her eyes and her wrinkled scrubs let me know that she'd been on her feet for much longer than I would ever want to be.

"You a nursing intern or a doctor intern?" she asked blandly.

"Uh- nursing," I found myself saying. It seemed like it would be the answer that would make her happier.

I must have been right, because her tired-looking eyes perked up a little bit. "Oh, really? We don't get many of those here. Poor thing too because nurses run this place, it wouldn't function without us."

"I've heard that they're the backbone of any hospital's infrastructure," I nod along with her.

She regards me for a moment, almost sizing me up, before continuing, "Hm. Alright then. This is the lobby and main nurses' station. Doctors receive patient files here, and people can approach and ask general questions- like if they're lost or something. Follow me, I'll show you to file room."

I had to scurry a bit to keep up with her. We zipped behind the large desk that separated the pastel scrubs from the ordinary folk and I suddenly was very aware of the fact that I was only wearing my nice jeans and an orange t-shirt. She continued moving briskly, and so I didn't spend much time among the other nurses, who all looked just as frazzled as my tour guide. We soon made it into a back room, which was appropriately names because it was crammed full of filing cabinets.  
"A lot of the newer information is online for us to access, but we are still required by law to keep a paper trail of all patients for at least five years after they've last checked out of the hospital- for malpractice lawsuit defense, I'm pretty sure. But yeah, everything's here."

"Everything? Even current patients?" I checked.

"Sure," she glanced around, apparently bored. "Everything means everything, right? Anyways, we can go see another specialized nurses' station next if you want."

Before I could answer another nurse popper her head into the room. "Libby? I have a question about Mr. Green's discharge papers. I don't think Dr. Call filled them out completely."

"Of course he didn't," my guide, Libby apparently, scoffed. "I can grab his pager number for you, but I can't do much more. I'm giving this kid a tour."

"They don't bring kids back _here_ for tours," the woman was surprised.

"She wants to be a nursing intern, she says. Figured I'd show her everything."

"Huh. I didn't even know there were nursing interns," she shrugged. "But anyways, just his pager number would be great. I really need to finish up these papers before I go home."

"You'll be okay for a second?" my guide asked- and I guess she was referring to me again.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay, I'll just be a second," she repeated before hurrying out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind her.

I stood for a second before realizing that I was truly alone. This was perfect! I'd had the idea when she'd mentioned that everyone's files would be here, but I didn't really think I'd get a chance to look around. If current patient files were in here, then Victor Freeman's would be- which could provide a whole plethora of information. If that wasn't enough to satisfy Fred and Daphne, then nothing would be.

Not quite sure how long a 'second' was to Nurse Deckett, so I had to move quickly. I located the 'Faz-Ful' filing cabinet and lugged it open. Freeman. Freeman. There it was- Freeman, Victor.

There wasn't enough time to actually go through everything, so I did the only thing I could. I pulled out my cheap phone and snapped a crummy quality picture. Oh well, it was better than nothing.

I was about to put the file back when I noticed the page at the back. "Approved Visitor List" was blazoned across the top in bold letters, and absolutely nothing else on the form was filled out. That made sense, the guy hadn't woken up yet- how would he was set up a visitor sheet? Well, now he would. I found a pen on top of a nearby cabinet and quickly started scribbling. I was in such a rush that my handwriting turned out to be just messy enough to have belonged to a doctor. Perfect.

I had barely gotten the proper drawer closed again when my guide returned. "Sorry sorry, Sheila had a question for me. Anyways, where were we?"

"Specialized nurses' station," I reminded her, and then we were off again.

I smiled to myself as we walked. I had gotten something- something good! And now it wasn't even a problem that I probably wouldn't be getting a chance to see where Victor Freeman was recuperating, I had everything I needed.

I would still go on the tour, though, because honestly it was all still pretty interesting.

**SPOV**

Was Daphne Blake pretty? Yes. Was Daphne Blake smoking hot? Yes. Was Daphne Blake super pushy and annoying as hell? Yes, again. Chick didn't know how to take no for an answer.

"Come on, Shaggy, you have to help me!" she was just standing outside my house- er, trailer- like it was no big deal. As if the Private School Princess actually had a chance of looking like she fit in here. Sure Velma went to that school but she at least managed to look like a real person while doing it. Most of those kids look like they shit diamonds on a regular basis.

She'd called me yesterday, while I was working no less, and started spouting off about need help with something. I was busy and I told her that, but she didn't seem to really grasp the concept. She just started talking faster. Okay, whatever, I hung up. And didn't pick up the next four times. I didn't know what it was like at Deacon Hill, but to me that seemed like a pretty clear 'leave me alone'.

Yet here she was, standing in her pretty little uniform, probably getting her nice shiny black shoes dirty with the brick dust that has been blowing into the Park from the baseball field my whole life. I glanced around and sure enough there was a very nice, very new looking little VW Bug parked off a ways. I'd probably bet Scooby that that was hers. That's how sure I was. No one around here would be driving a car like that. Velma was one of the only kids in the area to have a car, and that was just because her mom apparently could afford to live somewhere else and just didn't want to. Crazy lady, that one.

"Aren't you going to say something?" She crossed her arms and huffed at me.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why say something?" I clarified. "I don't have anything to say, other than to state the obvious. You're here. You shouldn't be. Your shoes are getting dirty."

While I was talking, I'd been moving towards the door and unlocking it. How had she gotten here so quickly anyways? School had just ended for us twenty minutes ago, and I knew that the private school ended earlier. As I entered- and surprise, surprise, she followed me- Scooby perked up.

"You didn't even really give me a chance to explain my reasoning yesterday!" she whined.

"Alright, explain." I moved towards the kitchen and looked into the fridge. Empty, damn. Guess I wouldn't be playing the proper host towards my unwelcome guest.

"I just think that it's a good route to go! I mean, I want a different side of this for my notes, sure, but it could also lead us somewhere interesting. And it was my idea, so I figured I could just go for it, you know? We don't have to run everything by everyone do we? But I just really need your help to make it work because I don't have a dog and-"

"Wait," I interrupted her, holding up one of my hands. "You're involving Scooby in this?"

"Well, yeah," she looked confused. "I told you that yesterday."

"Okay, lets say that hypothetically I wasn't listening to you yesterday. Care to repeat?"

She sighed, as if I were inconveniencing her oh so much, before speaking, "We don't really have sufficient background information regarding this case. So I just figured that the police would-"

"No," I interrupted her again.

"No?"

"No. No cops."

"What? You haven't even heard the whole idea!"

"I don't care. I'm not getting any closer to the cops than I have to when I pass the station on my way to school. Even then I get on the far side of the street!"

"That's ridiculous! They aren't just going to be able to tell that you've done something wrong by being close to you. They can't smell crime!"

"I'm not doing it."

"But we need to! If we don't then this whole thing just won't go anywhere and we won't get anything accomplished!"

"That doesn't bother me. I don't really give a damn if we manage to find something or someone or whatever. I'm here so that Fred Jones doesn't kill me, not for any other reason."

"Oh, come on!"

"No."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to help me," she threatened.

"You can share Scooby's bed, then."

"Shaggy! Come on! Just think about it! This is important! I had this idea, and its actually a good one and you're the only person that can help me!"

"It's the cops! Fred's dad is literally the Chief of Police, why wouldn't you just ask him?"

"Fred won't be able to do anything without raising suspicion. The whole station knows him, he can't just walk in and snoop around without them noticing!"

"No one can! It's a police station- they're kind of trained to notice that sort of thing!"

"I have a plan, okay? You wouldn't even be the one doing to snooping!"

I was going to reply, to tell her that my answer was still a firm no. Because there was no way in hell that I would willingly be entering a room full of cops. Nope, no way. I might have been stupid enough to sell to Fred Jones' little brother and get myself roped up into all of this, but even I had a line.

Then a crash sounded, making the whole trailer shake. Something had run into the door. I went over to it and swung it open, and there he was. Dad, drunk as a freaking skunk. Figures.

"Doors open," he said to me by way of greeting.

"Yeah, it is."

He meandered in, tripping a little here and there but always catching himself. He made his way into his room, without a single word offered to Daphne. Ah well, it was probably better that way.

"Is that your Dad?" she whispered, flinching a little as another crash come from his room. I'd have to check that out later.

"Yeah. That's Pops."

"He's really young," she commented, her eyes still on his closed bedroom door.

"I guess."

"Is he- I mean does he do that a lot?"

I didn't answer because I didn't like where she was going with that. And I knew where she was going with that- right where any rich kid would be going with it.

"Because I mean, you could tell me," she looks to me finally, probably expecting that I'd be tearing up or some shit.

"He's fine," I say to her, because he was.

"If you don't want to talk to me, I understand, but there are plenty of other people who would be there to listen. A teacher? Or a guidance counselor? Or just another friend."

"Shut up Daphne, this isn't a thing. He's fine. I'm fine."

"Its three-thirty in the afternoon, Shaggy," she said to me sadly, as if I were a kicked puppy or something.

I could have told her that he only went out when he didn't have work the next day. I could have told her that the only reason he was home at such an early hour was that his sleep schedule was all messed up because he worked weird shifts. But I really didn't want to have to explain everything. It was a lot of talking- and I'd already talked to her way longer than I'd planned on. I didn't speak too much during the day, and this conversation was pushing it already.

"If I agree to help you with whatever, will you drop this?" I bargain, because it seems like the quickest way of getting her out.

"You have to promise to talk to someone about this, too," she countered.

"Sure," I lie easily. "Just call me tomorrow and we can figure things out."

"Alright, but you have to pick up this time!"

"Okay, I will."

And then, thank god she was out the door and driving away.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"Come on Scoobs, it isn't a big deal," I spoke to my dog. We were out walking- out putting Daphne's stupid plan into play- and Scooby wasn't crossing the street. We hadn't walked on that side of the street, the side with the station, for years and he was hesitant to start now. I didn't blame him- I was hesitant too.

To her credit, Daphne had actually kept my part in all of this pretty simple. I just had to walk in, make sure to go up to the female cop on duty, and start asking her questions. Easy-peasy.

I left Scooby out front with the command to 'stay' and headed in. Just walking in through the front doors gave me chills. This wouldn't end well.

The lady cop was furiously typing at the front desk and I made a little face. She would probably be mad when I interrupted. Great.

"Uh, excuse me."

"Can I help you?" Yep, definitely mad for being interrupted.

"Uh, I think so?" Damn, did my voice just crack? Not cool. "You see I've got this dog and I was just wondering if I needed to like, file a report on it or something."

"File a report?" she asked me like I was an idiot, which I sort of was. I should have maybe focused less on the there being cops part and a little more on what I was actually going to say.

"Like, a permit or something?"

"You don't need to get a permit to have a dog sir. Unless you think the dog could be considered a weapon?"

"Oh, no, Scoobs wouldn't ever hurt anyone."

"Well, then you're fine. If that's everything?" she turned back to her screen before finishing her sentence.

"Um, no its not actually." Crap, Daphne had been very clear. I was to distract the woman until she finished up and she hadn't even arrived yet!

"What else can I help you with, then?"

"Oh, um, poop-scooping. I have a question about poop-scooping." Bless Velma for having yelled at me for not picking up Scooby's shit two weeks ago.

The lady cop looked at me, and I looked at her. After a beat or two, she sighed and prompted me, "Your question?"

"Yeah. I was just wondering, if I was walking my dog in the woods, and he pooped, would I have to pick it up? I mean, its not on the trail or anything, so he wouldn't be where most people walk. And that stuff's good for the ground, right? Like, fertilizer?"

"You have to pick up all of your dog's poop, sir," she said firmly.

"But wouldn't it actually be better for the environment in the long run if I left it? I mean, the grass would get greener. That can't be a bad thing."

"It's a fineable offence to leave your pet's feces laying around and not picking up after it," she explained.

"Well, I guess I think that that should be changed. Its an unjust law. For the environment. Who can I speak with about changing that law?"

She sighed again, "Let me go get you a pamphlet on our regulations regarding pets, okay? I'll be back."

As she walked away, I heard a chime from behind me. I turned, and there was Daphne. Excellent timing, that girl had.

She waltzed up to the guy cop who was also manning the front desk and leaned over, knowing exactly what it was he was seeing when she did. Gotta give the guy props, he tried his best to keep his eyes on her face.

"Excuse me, my name is Daphne Blake and I'm with the town paper. My boss wanted me to come down here and talk to someone about the fantastic job everyone did with the Victor Freeman case? Do you know who I could talk to?"

His chest puffed up a little bit and he replied, "Well, I'd be happy to talk to you. I was on patrol when the Freeman case was called in the first time."

"Oh really? That would be wonderful," she gushed. "Is there somewhere else you would want to hold the interview?"

"Oh, uh, we can go into the conference room over there," he pointed and then followed happily as she led the way. Poor guy.

My watching of the goings-ons was interrupted when Lady Cop returned, pamphlet in hand. "Just read this over. Its got the answers to most of your questions."

"Uh, I think I'll just read through this here in case I need more clarification after I'm done with it," I say, hoping that lady cop wouldn't make me leave.

She was already typing, though, so I guess she was okay with it. I started pretending to read the pamphlet, but really I was just trying to listen into the conference room. Daphne had left the door open, but I still couldn't make anything out.

It was taking a while! Lady Cop probably thought I was the slowest reader ever. I'd been standing here for almost fifteen minutes and I was still studying the same four page pamphlet intently. When was this thing going to get wrapped up?

"Uh, you know, this pamphlet really only covers dogs," I get her attention again. She looked up at me disbelievingly.

"You said you had a dog," she pointed out.

"Well, yeah. But I have been meaning to get a… a rabbit."

"You don't need a permit for a rabbit either."

"Do you have any pamphlets on rabbits back there? I'd like to be as educated as possible before making my purchase." Wow I sound like a dweeb.

She sighs, but gets up from her chair, "I'll check."

Just then, none other than Fred Jones waltzes through the back doors. He almost knocks over Lady Cop, too. Papa Jones is right behind him, too. Oh, I didn't like this one bit.

"Shaggy?" Fred recognizes me, of course.

"Uh, hey man."

"You know this kid?" Chief looked me over then glanced at his son questioningly. Apparently my type is not the sort he's used to hanging around his son. My not being of the meat-head variety, I can't say I blame the guy's confusion.

"We go to the same school," I rush to clarify. Don't need Freddie giving more away than would be prudent.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asks me.

"Here is your pamphlet on small animals," Lady Cop is back, answering Fred's question for me. "Will there be anything else?"

"Er-" is all I manage to get out before another voice interrupts me.

"Thank you so much for your time, Ralph, its much appreciated."

"Daphne? What are you doing here?" Freddie looks a little mad now. Guess he's figured out that I'm not actually at the police station to inquire about small animals.

"Gorman? What are you doing away from the front desk?" the Chief asked Ralph, who was looking more and more red by the second.

"Listen, I'm just going to duck out. My dog's waiting outside," I make my excuses and hurry out, with a little wave to Lady Cop, who isn't even looking.

As I'm walking away, Scooby's leash in one hand and my new pamphlets in the other, I see Daphne hurrying away. Well, looks like she got out alright. Good. My part was over and now I could go home and eat, because I was starving.

**AN:**

**Sorry for so long to update, real life's a bitch**


	5. Chapter 5

**Previously on WTW~ Velma gets sneaky, Shaggy&Daphne team up!**

**FPOV**

I hated eating dinner at my house when everyone was home. I didn't have a good reason for hating it either- I just did.

Mom teaches at the town preschool- the public one, not the one the Deacon Hill kids would have gone to- so she's always exhausted when she gets home. Playing with all those little kids is tiring as hell. I know, she made me come in and help out a couple of times last summer. So by the time she's done making dinner she just sort of collapses at the table to eat, then turns around and goes up to her room to get to sleep as soon as possible.

Dad doesn't really have much to say, usually. Sure, when he's mad he's got a thousand and one things to say to you, but other than that he's pretty tight-lipped. He has his work, and doesn't really take an interest in things outside of that. Whatever, its cool. He's upfront about it at least.

Frank's just a little shit who's still paranoid that I'm going to tell Dad about his getting high. Yeah right, I'd like to sleep tonight and hearing Dad's screams wouldn't let that happen. Besides, if that started thinking Frankie-boy was doing unsavory things he might start poking his nose into _my _business too. Nobody wants that.

"So how was your game today, Frankie?" Mom speaks up, breaking the silence. She's the only one in the world that he lets call him Frankie- just like she's the only one in the world that I let call me Freddie.

"Real good, Mom. I played a little at the end," he keeps his face down, staring at his mashed potatoes. None of us tell her that his game had actually been yesterday- she was trying at least.

"Have you spoken with your coaches about starting next year?" Mom asked. "Didn't we talk about you doing that?"

"Uh, yeah," his face was still down, but I was pretty sure I could see his cheeks flame. Girl. "I mean, I haven't talked to them. But sophomores always start on JV, so I don't really think I have to talk to them."

"That Coach Albert treating you alright?" Dad checked. Ah, one of the four topics he actually gave a shit about- people treating the Jones kids with the proper respect. "I know Fred wasn't ever on the JV team so we never really dealt with the man, but he seems like a pretty good guy from what I've seen."

"He's fine," Frank huffed. Probably bitter about being reminded that I'd never been on JV, while he was stuck riding the bench most games.

Conversation sort of drifted then. Not that that was unusual.

"Listen Fred," Dad started to speak, his voice gruff. Uh oh, usually the gruff voice meant that he was gearing up to play the 'I'm your father so my word is law' card. "About the station today-"

"Freddie went with you to the station?"

"Sure, I wanted him to show Jenks how to string a lacrosse stick. Man has a son who wants to start playing, and I know Fred can do it best," Dad explained, his voice losing the gruffness for a moment as he addressed her. Then he turned back to me, gruff voice back, "Those friends of yours…"

"I wouldn't really call them my friends," I interjected.

"Sure seemed like they were friends," he eyed me.

"Who was it?" Frank asked.

"Shaggy Rodgers, you know him?" I asked pointedly. Frank ducked back to his plate, cheeks flaming once more.

"Well, do you?" Dad asked, narrowed eyes now pointed in Frank's direction.

"Not really. He's in Fred's grade I'm pretty sure. I don't see him hanging around Fred ever, though," Frank spoke quickly. Too quickly, the little shit.

"Hm, and what about that girl? You two seemed pretty familiar."

"Daphne?" I ask. What did 'pretty familiar' even mean?

"Daphne Blake?" Frank echoed in a voice dripping in awe. "You're _pretty familiar_ with Daphne Blake? Since when?"

"What? Who is this Daphne girl?" Mom asked worriedly. "What about Mona? Freddie, are you and Mona broken up?"

"No, Mom, me and Mona are fine. There isn't anything going on at all with Daphne."

"But who is she?"

"She's Daphne Blake!" Frank exclaimed reverently. Wow, looks like I'd have to get Daphne over here to give Frank a heart attack or something. Maybe I could convince her to talk to him or something if he agreed to do my English homework for a month.

No, I was pissed at Daphne, I remembered suddenly. Sort of at Shaggy too, but the whole plan was probably Daphne's, so mostly at her. She went behind my back to work on the case, when the case was my thing. And so was the connection to the police! She wouldn't be invited over anytime soon.

"If you want to date this Daphne girl, that's your prerogative," Dad was speaking. "But you had better break things off with Mona gently. I play poker at her father's sometimes, and don't need some high school drama mucking things up. Be a damn gentleman."

"I'm not dating Daphne!" I interjected, but he ignored me, plowing on.

"As for that Rodgers kid, I didn't like the look of him. Looked far too nervous when he saw me, he did. No one who looks nervous when they see me is on the straight and narrow."

"Dear, you say the same thing about people who don't look nervous when they meet you," Mom pointed out.

"Yes, well, I'm the Chief of Police, aren't I? Someone who doesn't get a little nervous around me is too slick for my liking."

That wrapped things up for the Jones' family dinner. I scowled down at my leftover vegetables. I hated green beans. Matt's family almost never served green beans. Just another reason that I preferred to eat at his house.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

Before Mona, I'd dated this girl Lexi. She was nice enough, but we it was the beginning of freshman year so the whole thing was overall pretty innocent. We broke up before I'd even tried out for the lacrosse team, even.

Lexi had lived in the trailer park, so if nothing else I got a working knowledge of the place out of our short-lived romance. I would walk over to hang out with her, or to drop her home after the 'dates' that a freshman would think were romantic- going to poke around the library or something equally lame. Her trailer looked like all of the others. Or, most of the others at least. There were a couple that stood out, and Lexi was always very ready to give the details of who lived in those. Which was how I knew where Velma lived.

The place looked insane, to be honest. I'd noticed it right away upon first entering the trailer park, and Lexi was quick to assure me that her own home looked nothing like that.

I marched up to the colorful mass of metal and knocked on the front door. It only took a minute for Velma to swing it open, looking like she always did in big glasses and orange hoodie.

"Fred?" She was obviously surprised to see me. Right, of course she would be. She didn't even know I knew where she lived.

"Uh, hi. Listen, are you busy right now?"

"A little, yeah. I have this essay to write and…" She trailed off, apparently assuming I'd get the picture and leave her alone. Well, that wouldn't be happening.

"Listen, can you take a break? There's like an hour left for hospital visiting hours, so if we want to talk to the victim, we should get a move on."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Whoa, take a step back. You want to visit the hospital now? Tonight?"

"Well, yeah."

"And it can't possibly wait until tomorrow?"

No, I wanted to say, it couldn't. Fred and Daphne had spent the day doing things without me, so it was a perfect time to spend the night doing things without them. It was only fair.

"Fred," she continued. "It's a Saturday night. Don't guys like you have plans on nights like these? The hospital is still going to be there tomorrow."

"No, its better to go now," I insisted. "Your essay will still be there tomorrow, too."

She looked at me, really looked at me. "Fine, okay let's go. But I need to put the pig on a line first."

Pig? I didn't have time to voice my question before she answered it. Because she had turned into her trailer only to emerge holding an actual living little pig thing. She didn't make eye contact to see my baffled gaze, she only marched to the corner of her trailer and hooked this leash type of thing to a collar around the pigs neck. Like it was a dog or something. Wow, her family must have actually been insane.

"Did you walk here?" she asked, redirecting my attention. Okay, apparently we weren't going to talk about the animal that was now sniffing around the bushes.

"No, I walked."

"Let's drive. This is my car here," she gestured and I moved to hop in.

As we were driving towards the hospital, she spoke up, "Can I ask why its so important that we do this _tonight_?"

"Uh, no reason. I just wanted to get it done with. Solve this thing, you know."

"Right," she didn't sound like she really believed me. " And why did you ask _me_ to come with you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That its pretty clear you would normally ask Daphne for help on this sort of thing. You and her are like this," she made one of those crossed-fingers expressions.

"Me and Daphne don't do everything together," I snapped; my sudden bad temper from a mix of Daphne's working behind my back, my whole family thinking that I was all of a sudden dating her, and now Velma's question.

"I didn't say you did," she said softly, but she didn't follow that up with anything. Thank god, looks like she was going to let the whole thing go.

We stayed quiet until she'd parked at the hospital. There weren't a ton of cars there, the only remaining ones were probably staff. Visiting hours were basically over as it was.

"What are you planning on asking this guy?" she spoke up again as we walked through the sliding doors of the hospital lobby.

"What do you mean?" I was momentarily distracted as a smokin' hot nurse walked past, but my attention was on Velma when the woman had hurried off.

"Like, what are you planning on asking him about? Do you have any specific questions in mind?"

"Uh, no?"

"Fred! You can't just barge in there unprepared! Did you just all of a sudden get a random urge to see this guy? No preparation at all?"

Pretty much, but she wouldn't be happy with that answer. "I just figured that I didn't want it to be like an interview, I wanted the whole thing to be casual, unscripted. So I shouldn't prepare too much before hand."

She looked at me like she thought that it was a terrible idea, but by then we were already at the guy's room. Those files that she had snapped pictures of had his room number on them, so we didn't end up having to ask at the nurses' station. Good thing too, because now no one had to know that we were poking around in the first place. Very good for proper detective work.

I knocked a little on the doorframe as we walked in, give the guy a slight heads up that we were there. He glanced up from his bed, and I could see the surprise in his face that we weren't a couple of doctors or nurses coming to check on him.

From what we knew, the guy had been found in basically a puddle of his own blood. He'd been chewed up pretty badly, and had lost a lot of blood. He'd been rushed to the emergency room after being found, and they were thankfully able to save him.

Victor Freeman was a pretty skinny guy, though maybe that was on account of the crappy hospital food. His head was shaved, his dark skin smooth at the top. He sat up a little straighter in the bed before asking, "Something I can help you kids with?"

"Hello, Mr. Freeman, my name is Fred Jones and-"

"Fred Jones? Like the Chief of Police Fred Jones?"

"Oh, well he's my father-"

"Interesting. You tell your dad I say hello, alright?"

"Fine, I will. But actually I'm here right now to talk to you about your incident."

His eyebrows furrowed, "You mean the animal attack?"

"We'd just like to hear your account of it, sir," Velma stepped in and spoke. "My name is Velma Dinkley. I'm a… a friend of Fred's."

"Listen I've already told everything to the cops. You should just ask your dad about it if you're curious."

"If its all the same to you, we'd like to hear your account. What all you remember."

"Alright kid, sure. I was out for a jog on the trails and there was some rustling in the bushes up ahead. No big deal, really. I pass the spot where the rustling had been, and I see the animal out of the corner of my eye-"

"What kind of animal?" I ask.

"Well, uh," for some reason, he started to look a little uncomfortable. "The detectives all said it was a wolf attack so-"

"You sound as if you're doubtful," Velma said.

"I mean, no I'm not doubtful. If the professionals say it was a wolf, then it was a wolf. They know what they're doing, and my memory can be faulty of the event. Like, the pain from the attack could have distorted things."

"But what if the professionals made a mistake?" I press.

"Well, I'm not saying they did, because that's a stretch and we all know it."

"But what if you were right about what you saw? Shouldn't you tell anyone about it?"

"Kid, I wasn't right. That's that. I might've thought I saw a man, but I was wrong."

A man. He'd seen a man. And his wounds had been from a wolf. That was proof enough for me. I wanted to whoop with excitement, but instead calmly bade Victor Freeman a good night and left. This thing was back on track. Guess my werewolf theory doesn't look so bad now?

**DPOV**

Okay, so I knew Fred wouldn't be thrilled with me working behind his back. This whole mystery thing was sort of his baby, so he might have had a little bit of a reason to be mad that things were going on without him. But it was the only way! He would understand that if he would answer his freaking phone!

I'd called and I'd called, but so far I'd put off actually going to see him. I'd left the station without really acknowledging him in front of his father, it would be sort of weird for me to just show up out of the blue. And I couldn't have acknowledged him in front of his father, the whole point of keeping Fred out of it was keeping the Chief out of it! I had a cover to keep, otherwise I would have pulled Fred aside right there and explained things.

Maybe that's what I should have done, though, because it appears it was my only chance to actually talk to him. Because he was ignoring my calls. And my texts. Annoying.

"You're staring at your phone more than usual," Jess commented. I glanced up from it sheepishly, and she was peering at me from where she was leaning against her car.

"It's nothing."

"Aw, come on Daph, who is it?" Chloe whined, the smoke from her cigarette wafting out as she did so.  
"What are you talking about?" It was just easier to play dumb.

"Girls only stare at their phone like that when there's a guy involved. You especially," Chloe said matter-of-factly.

"Ooh, remember Justin? Her phone was glued to her face for like, two weeks," Jess giggled.

Sure, I was pretty attentive to the guys that I liked, but that's not what this was. But I couldn't really explain to my friends what exactly this was, so…"Its not like that. He's just a friend."

"Please," Chloe scoffed. "We're your friends, Daph, so we know. You're the worst texter ever. You just don't pay enough attention to your phone to be good at it. But when you're into a guy you magically transform into some text-aholic."

"Its, true," Jess chimed in.

"This guy is more than 'just a friend', girl," Chloe continued.

If they were right, then that would mean that I was interested in Fred. So they had to be wrong. Well, even if they were right, then this was just the exception that proved the rule. Yeah, that was it.

"Wait, Jared said he saw your car in the Trailer Park a couple days ago, were you visiting him?" Jess squealed.

"A Trailer Park guy?" Chloe's mouth was less than an inch from the ground. "Seriously? Oh my god, how hot is this guy?"

"What?"

"If you're dating some guy from the Trailer Park, then he has to be hot. Lord knows he's not rich."

"You guys are crazy! I'm not dating anyone! I'm not even remotely interested in anyone right now! You know what? I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow," I flung my cigarette onto the ground, stomped it out, and rushed to unlock my car.

"Let us know when you're ready to stop denying it, sweetie!" Chloe called to me as I slid into the driver's seat.

"No shame in a Trailer Park guy!" Jess shouted as she waved.

Great, just great! They were convinced that I had some secret boyfriend living in the Trailer Park, there's no way they'll ever let it go. Or let me convince them that it's not true. Gah.

But now I had some time on my hands, and I knew exactly where I was going to go. Enough was enough, it was time to make Fred Jones talk to me. I'd let him have his little tantrum, but we seriously needed to talk. I was still invested in documenting this whole mystery thing, and if we stopped talking, that would sort of fall apart.

I pulled up to the public school and said a silent prayer of thanks when I saw that all the cars were still there. Which meant that the students were still there. Which meant Fred was still there. I nabbed a visitor's parking space and made my way into the building.

"Can I help you, dear?" asked the little old lady sitting in the office.

"Um, I'm looking for a student. I need to speak with him."

"Oh, well classes are actually going to be over in a few minutes, is there any way it could wait until then? Teacher's don't really like students to be pulled out of class."

"Um, okay, sure that's fine. But could you direct me towards his classroom? I want to catch him as he comes out."

"Does he know you're coming, dear?"

"Uh, yeah," I lied. "He knows."

"Alright, who is it?"

"Fred Jones."

Well her face just lit right up at the mention of his name. "Oh, you're looking for Fred? Well of course, of course! He's in math right now, room 162, just down the hall to the right, actually. I do hope you're not here to steal lacrosse secrets!"

Lacrosse secrets? What? Oh, I glanced down at the uniform that I'd forgotten I was wearing. Of course, this woman only saw me as some Deacon Hill girl, and to this school Deacon Hill was the rival. Right. "Nope, no secret stealing today."

"Well you run along, dear," she smiled brightly at me before returning to the file she'd been filling out when I had arrived.

I hurry down the hallway that she had indicated for me, and found room 162 with a bit of trouble. Why in the world weren't the numbers in order? What sort of sense did that make? But anyways, I was waiting there when the bell rang. And it probably wasn't a good place to be waiting. The halls immediately flooded with bodies. Oh lord, how many students actually went here? And they expected to all pack into the same tiny hallway at once?

I had to shove a little bit, but I got into the actual classroom with minimal fuss. And there he was, leaning against his desk, waiting for another guy to finish packing up his backpack.

"Daphne?" He'd noticed me.

"We need to talk, Fred."

"Um, sure?" he glanced at his friend, who was now ready and gaping openly at me. Clearly we didn't have any privacy here.

"Meet me by my car, its parked out front," I said to Fred, offered a half-smile to his friend, and left the room. Hopefully Fred would come, understanding that I really wanted to talk about all of this.

It was a few minutes before he made it out, but he eventually did. Good, because I was close to going back in there to find him again.

"You probably shouldn't have smiled like that to Matt," he joked a little as he approached. "Guy 'bout had a heart attack. Thinks he's in love."

What was I supposed to say to that? "Um, okay. Listen, I just wanted to say I was sorry about Saturday."

"Sorry you did it? Or sorry I found out?" he crossed his arms in front of him.

"It's not like I wasn't going to tell you about it!" I insisted. "I just didn't want you there because everyone at the station knows you so well! You would draw attention to the whole thing!"

"You still should have given me a heads up that you were planning something."

"You're right, okay? I should have, and that's why I'm apologizing now."

He studied me for a beat before nodding, "Yeah, alright. Apology accepted."

"Okay, good."

"So what'd you find," he looked up through his eyelashes at me as he asked.

"Huh?"

"When you and Shaggy were snooping around. What did you find?"

"Oh, um some really interesting stuff actually. I have the notes at home, but the victim that they found alive? Freeman? He initially claimed that when he was attacked he saw a-"

"-a man, I know," he finished my sentence. At my shocked look he got a little sheepish. "Uh, me and Velma went and talked to the guy."

"Before or after the police station thing?" He was either hypocritical or vengeful.

"After."

"Hm, okay. You figure anything else out while you were there?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "Velma might remember more, though. You figure anything else out at the station."

"Not really," I echoed. "But there might be more stuff in my notes."

"We should have a team meeting, soon."

"Where?"

"Somewhere neutral. Where none of us would raise suspicion by going." So we were on the same page at least about our meeting being a secret.

"What about the library? We can all go separately and then meet at a specific table or something."

"Sounds good to me," he shrugged. "Listen, I've got to get to practice, so figure out dates and times and text me."

"Will do."

He started walking back towards the school building, but spun around, "Oh! One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Look over there," he pointed towards one of the parking lots. "You see the blue and orange van?"

I assumed he was referring to the butt-ugly ancient VW Bus that was parked in the first row of the lot. "Um, yeah?"

"That's mine," he grinned proudly. "Just got it. Now we have a ride for all of our mystery-solving adventures."

"Um, I already have a car. And so does Velma."

"Yeah, but this can hold all of us, plus any stuff we need to lug with us. For traps for something. And I don't really give a shit if Scooby rides in it. Don't know if you could say the same."

That was true, that mutt wouldn't be in my car if I had my way- which I did.

"I named it, want to hear?" he asked. I nodded and he leaned in to whisper, "The Mystery Machine."

"The Mystery Machine?"

"Get it? Its alliteration!"

"Um, yeah I get it. Nice?"

"Thanks," he didn't catch my actual feelings on the name and van, apparently. "Hey, now I really got to run. See you soon." And then he was off.

**AN:**

**Review, review, review! Pretty Please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Previously on WTW: Fred&Velma talk to victim, Daph and Fred make up, whoo!**

**VPOV**

Some days I wanted to barge into the Dean's office and demand to have some of my questions answered. There was an almost constant stream of questions in my head, but the most pressing one at this very moment was: how the hell did Justin Davidson get into an advanced Biology course? Seriously, the boy was only a slightly better dressed version of a Neanderthal. Okay, a much better dressed version, but still.

He was sitting much closer to me than I wanted or appreciated. He was peering at me as I completed the pre-lab for today's dissection, as if he was going to catch me in a mistake. Please.

"And where is your worksheet, Mister Davidson?" the voice of our teacher, Mr. Bartlett, scared both of us, I think.

"Oh, uh, well I don't have it out," Justin went with the brilliant argumentative tactic of stating the obvious. I wanted to roll my eyes, but withheld the urge.

"Thank you, Mister Davidson. How about this- since your charming partner has gone through all the trouble of completing the entire pre-lab without much input from you, how about you do the dissection part of the lab?"

No, that wouldn't work. He'd make a mess of it and mess up my grade! Dammit, Bartlett!

"Sure thing, Mr. B," Justin grinned at our teacher, unflinching in the face of actually having to do some of his own work. Huh, that was surprising.

Bartlett nodded at the two of us before walking away, probably to inflict failing grades onto another pair. Ugh!

"You kind of look like you're going to smack someone," Justin observed off-handedly, while he rifled through his expensive looking backpack to pull out a rumpled up blank lab sheet.

"Yeah, well," I brushed it off and began re-reading the directions for myself. It was a simple enough frog dissection, we had done online simulations already. Hopefully he wouldn't screw anything up too badly.

"Well if the urge overcomes you, just knock Zach upside the head, okay? Of everyone here he probably deserves a smack the most, you know?"

Right. As if I would ever just get up, walk across the room, and slap a boy who most likely didn't even know my name. "Sure."

"So you agree?"

"What?" I glance up from my lab paper to see that he's looking right at me, his eyes mischievous. Shouldn't he have been reading the directions? He was the one who was going to have to do it!

"You think that Zach deserves to be smacked."

"Wha- I didn't say that!" I huffed indignantly.

"You didn't disagree when I said it, though," he finally turned his head towards his own paper. "And some people might argue that not saying no really means yes."

"Is that what you have to tell yourself to get dates?" I muttered under my breath.

"Whoa!" he looked up again- no, keep reading! "Did Velma Dinkley just make a mean joke? Stop the presses!"

"Almost as surprising as it would be if you actually did some of your own work," I snapped at him, because come on! It had been almost five minutes and he still hadn't accomplished anything more than finding his mistreated lab sheet!

"Touché, ma'me. Alright, I'm doing it," he reached forward and pulled the tray of supplies forward. "Here we go."

"You barely even glanced at the directions!"

"I'm as fast reader," he didn't take his eyes off of the various scalpels in front of him.

I highly doubted that. And in the ensuing seventeen minutes of froggy-torture, I was proven right. He hadn't read the procedures thoroughly, or maybe not at all. It was clear that he wasn't overly sure what we were searching for, he just sort of dove into the frog knife first.

The resulting mess was everything I had feared it would be. The thing had been sliced in so many different ways, it was astounding. I wanted to pick up the messy tray and shove it in Bartlett's face as proof as to why I should have been the one to complete the lab. Now our results would be wrong. As would our post-lab questions. At least I would get some points on the pre-lab work.

"Zach's right over there, like I said," he smiled and pointed.

"If I smacked anyone, it wouldn't be Zach," I growled, still looking at the mess in front of me.

"Yeah, that's my bad I guess. It was fun, though," he shrugged and winked at me, as if that was meant to make anything any better.

"We're going to fail this lab now," I spoke slowly, hoping that he would understand.

He ran his tanned hand through his light brown hair, his blue eyes peering around the classroom. "Nah, Sarah will let us see her lab before she turns it in. We'll be fine."

"You want us to cheat."

"No, you want us to cheat."

"No I don't! You're the one who suggested it!"

"I'm just problem solving," he put his hands up in a mock-defensive stance. "You're the one who's concerned with us failing. I don't really give a sh- well, it doesn't really bother me any."

I may have snorted a bit at that, "How can it not bother you?"

"I've done it before, my folks don't really care. I'm in this class 'cause Dad would love another doc in the family, but by fourth quarter he's pretty much come to terms with the fact that its not happening.

"So, like I said, you're the one concerned with a passing grade. And I'm here to help, that's what a good lab partner does. I'm pointing out that Sarah would be willing to give us a little peek before she turned hers in. Do with that what you will."

"If we got caught cheating we'd be expelled."

"Like you said- if."

"No."

"Cool. So what do we do from here," he gestured towards his handy work.

I looked at it despondently. But I had to try to make it best of it. So I diligently started combing through the questions and trying to wrangle some answers out of the whole mess.

"Failing isn't actually as bad as it seems," Justin spoke again. "I mean, sure it sucks at first. But its sort of nice, in a way, too."

"Oh, yeah?" The disbelief in my voice was practically palpable.

"Sure, stick with me kid, and if you keep right on failing then us slackers might start picking other smart kids to partner up with," he joked.

If Bartlett put the scalpel into Justin's hands ever again, then failure wouldn't just be a joke. The kid really had made a spectacular mess of things. With all of his slicing and dicing, he'd managed to make it look like something had taken a bite out of this frog! If placed back into the wild, its little frog friends would have been on the lookout for a frog munching predator.

I froze, my pen a centimeter above my paper. Crap. Looks like I had something to thank Justin for, now. In his general incapability, he'd inadvertently helped the case. The case. I needed to tell someone!

Who, though? I was in the middle of Biology class! And surely everyone else was in class as well!

Norville- er, Shaggy- probably wasn't, a little voice inside my head spoke up. He didn't go to classes very regularly, it seemed. Mom was always talking about seeing him walking around with his dog during the school day. Yes, he was my best bet.

"Mr. Bartlett can I go to the restroom?" I stood quickly and asked.

As soon as I'd gotten permission, I was scurrying down the hallways towards the bathrooms. In there I could call Shaggy and tell him what I'd figured out.

In the bathroom, though, stood Daphne, fixing her hair in the mirror. Well this was perfect! Now I didn't have to deal with the risk that Shaggy had chosen today to go to classes.

Before I could speak up, though, one of Daphne's clones came out of one of the stalls. I knew that the whole point of the uniforms was that we all looked similar and equal, but Daphne and her two friends were practically carbon-copies of each other. It was slightly ridiculous.

"Um, you know what Jess? I think that I actually do need to use the restroom. You should go back, so that Ms. Gregory doesn't get mad that we're spending too much time in here," Daphne spoke up, after noting my arrival.

"Sure," the blonde chirped, then waltzed out without a glance in my direction.

"No one else is in here, what's up," Daphne turned towards me. "Be quick, though, Ms. Gregory's a total pain about the whole bathroom thing."

Quick? Okay, I could go quick. I bypassed the whole back story and just said, "It could have been a knife. The wounds on Victor Freeman, and probably the guy before him, they could have been from a knife. Not just an animal."

She took a moment to think that over. "Okay. That's good. I'm going to want to know how you came to that conclusion, but that's fine. For now. You got my text about meeting at the library tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, you can tell everyone when we all get there. Just hold onto this for now. You did good, Velma."

**SPOV**

"Where you off to?" Dad asked, like he usually did when he was home and I went out.

He'd been working nights for the past week, which meant that he had been home during the day. Not a problem, except that he wasn't working doubles, which meant that he was getting home at the exact time when I would be getting up for school. Which meant that he noticed when I didn't go. Which meant that I had to go. I'm pretty sure my teacher's have had a collective stroke at seeing me in class for five straight days in a row.

It also meant that he slept while I was in classes, which meant that he was awake when I got home. The man only needed six hours of sleep to function, something that I sure as hell hadn't inherited. Maybe one day I would be like him, when I started working insane hours at the factory, but for now I lived on my eleven or twelve hour sleeps.

"Uh, out with friends."

"Alex?" It was the only friend who's name he knew.

"Um, no. Other kids."

"Oh, well be safe."

Good advice, Dad. I only wish that I was going to be following it.

Velma had told Fred about her little knife-theory Wednesday night, and he'd promptly shitted himself in excitement. Well, practically. He had immediately spouted words like 'undercover', 'investigate' and 'information'. None of them sounded too bad, until he'd used my name. No way, I'd wanted absolutely no part in any of it.

"Come on Shaggy, you're the only person in this group who could walk into a pawn shop without getting laughed at," Fred had argued. Sure, it was true. Fred had that whole 'upstanding citizen' act going on, Daphne screamed 'my Daddy pays for my credit cards' and Velma was just too innocent looking. None of them would fit in. As if that made any difference to me. I still wasn't going to do it.

"Listen, this plan is pretty logical," Velma had spoken calmly. "There are only two places in the nearby area to get knifes, the pawn shop and the knife store in Kensington. The knife store keeps meticulous records and had surveillance cameras, if you were planning on committing murder you wouldn't go there. The cops could trace that really easily. No, instead you'd go to the pawn shop- the place where no one's even heard of a background check."

"Yeah, that's a great argument, V. Now you've pointed out that there are probably murderers there. Now I definitely want to go!" I spat sarcastically.

"All you have to do is go in and ask the guy behind the desk to see who's bought a knife recently," Daphne said.

"All I have to do? That's a lot!" I had insisted. "People that work at pawn shops are creepy!"

"So are drug dealers!" Fred exclaimed.

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" Both girls looked suitably confused.

I'd widened my eyes at Fred in the universal sign for 'shut the hell up'. Thankfully he caught on an mumbled something about it being the first thing that popped into his head. But he didn't break eye contact with me. Message loud and clear Freddie-boy. I do it or he tells the rest of the group my little secret.

Which was why I was walking to where Fred had his ugly-ass van parked at the entrance of GlenfieldPark, Scooby in tow. Last thing I needed was more people knowing what I did to make money. Secrets like that, ones that could land me in jail, shouldn't be trusted to law-abiding citizens. The people that I sold to where one thing, they didn't have a non-suspicion rousing way of pointing their fingers at me. I was safe from any of them snitching. Clean-nosed private school girls, though? Not the same thing.

I climbed into the monstrosity of a vehicle, looked around, then asked, "Where's Velma?"

"She's tutoring my friend Chloe tonight," Daphne glanced back at me from the passenger seat. "Normally I'd have told Velma to ditch it, but Chlo kind of needs all the help she can get."

"Yikes, thought you said this girl was your friend," I muttered.

"She is!" Daphne said defensively. "What are you talking about? Chloe is one of my best friends!"

And that was how she was going to talk about her? Okay then. Girls, man. They don't make any sense. I looked at Scooby and shook my head. For a moment it seemed like he was nodding understandingly. That might have just been due to the fact that we were bouncing around like Fred was driving on boulders instead of a flat road. Seriously, this thing was a deathtrap.

Eventually we parked, all four lives miraculously still intact. Fred turned around, his game face on. "Okay Shaggy, we have one shot to get this right. Try not to mess up."

"Um, how about I just try not to get killed, and we'll call that a success?"

"Be serious," he scowled at me. "All you have to do is go in and get a list of all the people who purchased a knife before the first murder in the park."

"You realize that that isn't actually simple, right? Its not like I can just walk in there and ask to see their records, or whatever. Best case scenario, they say no. Worst case, Scooby's an orphan."

Scooby chose that very appropriate time to let out a whine, which only emphasized my point. "See? He sees how crazy this is."

"You'll be fine, Shaggy. Fred and I are going to be right out here," Daphne valiantly tried to reassure me. Good try, sweetheart, but no dice.

They didn't seem to care that I was scared out of my mind, though, so I decided to switch tactics, "Are we even sure that this is the right way to go? I mean, how do we know that whoever killed the guy didn't already have a knife? He might not have even had to buy one."

Fred huffed in frustration, "It's the only lead we have right now, so we're sticking with it. Now get your ass out of the van."

Yes sir. Maybe I needed to invest in going to the gym or something. Maybe if Fred wasn't so much bigger than me, I wouldn't be scared shitless of him beating the crap out of me. Nah, I probably still would be.

I pulled Scooby out with me, and we approached the building. Fred had parked in the lot belonging to the closed beauty salon across the street from the pawn shop. If I'd had it my way he would be sitting in front of the entrance, ready for us to make a speedy getaway at the first sign of danger.

There were, of course, two scary looking dudes smoking in front of the entrance. Right under the 'No loitering' sign, though they probably didn't know what irony was.

One looked me up and down before saying, "Badass dog, dude. He do any tricks?"

Be cool, I chanted to myself. Nothing good would come out of these guys thinking I was a wimp. Better keep responses short, less of a chance for my voice to crack in fear, "Not really."

Scary Dude 1 nodded and Scary Dude 2 spoke up, "That's one ugly ass car."

"Don't I know it," I couldn't really help but roll my eyes. Even total strangers were commenting on the car. Why the hell had Fred bought the thing?  
It was, apparently, the right thing to say though, because they laughed loudly. Then, thankfully, they went back to their cigarettes and didn't give me another glance. I took the opportunity to go in without their eyes on me.

The inside was sort of what I expect a pawn shop to be. I mean, it was the first one I had been in, but I'd pictured them in my head before. It was dark, and crowded with a bunch of shit. A desk ran along the side, it was a glass case with a bunch of nice looking stuff in it. Stuff that was probably stolen. That's what pawn shops were for, right?

"Can I help you?" a gruff voice asked.

I turned toward him and almost had a legitimate heart attack. A face tattoo. The guy behind the desk, the guy I was going to have to ask the stupidest question imaginable, had a face tattoo. Of a snake. Of course.

"Yeah, uh, I sort of have a question about a knife."

Face Tattoo looked at me, hard, making me squirm a little. "Dogs aren't allowed in here, 'less they're of the seeing eye variety."

"He sees stuff." Holy crap, did I really just give a smart-ass remark to this guy? Apparently I had a deep seeded death wish.

"You got a name, kid?" he had shifted to stand a little taller, which didn't seem very good.

"Shaggy." No last names, didn't want this guy tracking me down to kill me in my sleep or anything.

Face Tattoo's eyebrows rose, "Like Don's boy, Shaggy?"

"Well, yeah." Don had been a senior when I was a sophomore, and he was the one that hooked me up with the means to do what I did. Though saying we were tight was sort of a stretch. We saw each other for two minutes every other week or so. Nothing special at all.

"Me and Don go way back," Face Tattoo actually smiled a little. "He say you do good work for him. What can I do for you, kid? You lookin for a knife, you said."

"Oh, no I'm not trying to buy a knife," I shook my head quickly. "No, no. I just want to know who bought a knife from you two, two and a half months ago."

His eyebrows furrowed, "You lookin' for a name?"

"Yes," I was relieved that he understood.

"What's up, man? You huntin' someone down or somethin'?"

"Something like that."

"Hm," he regarded me for a short moment. "Well, I'm happy to help. Don says you pretty cool, so whatever you need. Show me the knife and I'll tell you if I saw the guy that bought it."

"Oh," okay apparently he didn't totally understand. "No, I don't have the knife. I just need all the guys who bought knives."

That confused him, and rightly so. What I was asking was super weird, even to my own ears. I just wished that Fred, Daphne, and Velma had been able to hear it when they demanded it of me.

"Listen, I don't know what you're up to, but I'm gonna help you out, man," Face Tattoo spoke. "Next time you see Don, you tell him I helped you out, though, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Fine." He turned away from me to grab a black folder. He ran his hands through the sixty or so hand written papers inside the thing, before pulling one out. "Here, two knife sales two months ago. Eric Hooper, and Connor Bryan. That what you wanted to know?"

"Yep, that's it. You got any other information on them?"

He just laughed a little, then turned to put the folder back among the stacks of other black folders that were place haphazardly around. "What do you think, kid?"

"Whatever, thanks anyways."

"You don't forget to tell Don that I helped you out."

"I won't," I promised, before taking Scooby and getting the hell out of there.

Not my fault that the guy didn't tell me his name.

**AN: How ya doin? Still reading? Drop me a review just so I know you're still out there!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Previously on WTW~ Velma has a brainblast and Shaggy has to investigate solo**

**FPOV**

"What do you guys know about Phil Hooper," I ask Matt and Dan. We usually stick together at practice since Coach is over dealing with the kids who actually need help, leaving us to just toss the ball around.

"Uh, he played basketball, right?" Dan said.

"Him and Hanna Jordan dated for a while," Matt offered up.

"He pretty cool, you think?" I asked.

They exchange a look, then simultaneously shrug. "Don't know, man. Why?"

"I hear he's got a pretty good party house, thinking he should get a little more social, have something sometime," I shrug as if its not actually a big deal.

"But we have parties at Kyle's house," Dan sounded confused.

"I'm not an idiot, jackass, I know where we normally have parties," I snap. If I get mean, they'll hopefully stop asking questions. "Maybe I just want a little change of scenery."

"We could go to my house," Matt offered up, trying to ease the tensions a little bit.

"You live two doors down from me, Matt," I rolled my eyes. "I'd prefer to party somewhere where my Dad won't be able to hear it from his freaking bedroom."

That took Matt's house off the table permanently, and I knew it. Being busted by the cops was always a risk, but getting busted by a cop that you had personally woken up was another thing entirely. We silently continued passing the ball, and I could see the gears turning in the boys' heads.

"Uh, Hooper is in my English class," Dan spoke again. "I could talk to him, I guess."

"You do that."

Good, when Phil Hooper heard that I wanted him to throw a party, he would. That was step one of the plan down. He was a pretty good kid, from what I'd heard, which meant that he would only throw a party when his parents weren't home. Which was perfect.

His father, Eric Hooper, was on the list that Shaggy had gotten for us. He wasn't the only one, but we were going to focus on his name first. We just needed to get in, find the knife, and then Velma was pretty sure that she would be able to tell if it was the right kind to have been used for the murder. And this party was going to be our ticket in.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"Where are we going, Fred?" Mona asked from beside me. "Phil's house is on the other side of town."

"I know, we just have to stop and pick someone else up real quick," I try to placate her.

Mona and I had gotten back together, so the speak, the day after Phil announced that he was having a party. He didn't specifically tell anyone that it was due to my influence, but I knew. Mona did too, having heard it from Dan. She had come bouncing over and acted like I had come up with a new party spot just for her. Something about how she was always telling me that she didn't really like Kyle's house, and was ever so thankful that I had stepped in like a gentleman to do something about it. It was all news to me, but she was talking to me again and I sure as hell wasn't going to be an idiot and say anything.

"Who do you know that lives out here," she asked as the houses started getting progressively larger and more expensive looking. "All these kids go to Deacon Hill."

"Yeah, she does go there."

"She?" Mona screeched so loudly that I cringed a little. "You're bringing some other girl to this thing?"

"She didn't know where Phil lived, so I offered to give her a lift is all." Not really a big deal.

"If she doesn't know where Phil lives, then why would he have invited her?" Mona asked, sounding challenging.

"Um, I guess he really didn't invite her. But I don't think he'll care or anything." I was a little distracted while answering, because I was trying to find Daphne's driveway. I'd been to her house before, but it was dark this time and her driveway was pretty hidden by bushes. Ah, there it was.

"Who is she?"

"Daphne Blake," I say as I pull out my phone to text Daphne that we were there.

"Daphne Blake?" She repeats, sounding both shocked and insulted. Oh, that's right. Mona doesn't like Daphne. Oops, well whatever. We'd be at the party soon.

"Did you really have to come in the van?" Daphne asked as she slid the door open. "It doesn't really scream, 'party'."

"I love the van," Mona snapped at her. Oh good, so this was going to go well.

"Um, that's nice," Daphne shot me a confused look through the rearview mirror. "Hi, I'm Daphne."

"Oh I know who you are," Mona said icily. "And I'm Mona Ballard, Freddie's _girlfriend_."

"Oh," another questioning look in my direction. "I guess I didn't know that Fred had a girlfriend."

"Well he does!" she screeched.

"How long have you two been together," Daphne asked, trying to be polite bless her heart. But knowing Mona, that wouldn't win her any points.

"Two years," Mona preened a little.

"Off and on." I don't know why I spoke, but the words just sort of came out. Well, it was the truth, at least. Saying that we had been dating for two years would make Daphne think of a couple totally different from what me and Mona were.

"Whatever," Mona rolled her eyes. "I don't even get why she's coming to this thing in the first place."

"I'm sorry, but do you have a problem with me?" Daphne had apparently reached her limit.

"Maybe I do. You're some Deacon Hill girl who thinks that she's better than everyone else, especially us _public school kids_. Well if you're _so_ much better than us, then you'd think you wouldn't be begging Freddie to take you to our parties."

"Listen, I don't know who the hell you've been talking to but-"

"How about Heather Penn? Freshman year you and those bitches you call friends told her that cheerleading was stupid. Well let me tell you something-"

"Oh my god that was over two years ago," Daphne cut in. "Holding a grudge like that isn't becoming, just so you know."

"Fred, are you going to let her talk to me like that?" Mona demanded. Aw, damn. I didn't want to be in this conversation.

"Um, I think you're pretty becoming, sweetheart," I said, not able to really think of anything else.

Daphne scoffed from the back, and I'm pretty sure I heard an 'of course you do', but thankfully Mona didn't seem to. She also seemed appeased by the half-hearted effort on my part. The rest of the ride to Phil's was silent, which was better than fighting girls in my book, so I didn't try to start another conversation.

We arrived and Mona stormed inside immediately. Guess I had to follow her. I turned to Daphne, "Hey, I should go make sure she's okay. Sorry about her."

"Whatever Fred, just find me when you want to start working, okay?" She turned and headed into the house, leaving me to find my pissed-probably still girlfriend.

It took a little while, I had to stop and talk to everyone as I passed by, but I eventually managed to find Mona. Surprise, surprise, she was in her usual posse. And by the remains scattered around, they were all already wasted. Wonderful.

"Freddie's here!" she slurred as she leaned over the table where they were positioned. Well at least the bouncing was over for the night. "Look girls, he's done doing his Deacon Hill slut!"

"Daphne's just a friend, Mona," I resisted rolling my eyes.

"Why would you even bring her," one of Mona's friends asked, also slurring.

"She's not gonna have any fun. She doesn't even know anyone," another spoke.

I glanced over to where I had last seen Daphne, and sure enough, she was there surrounded by various guys. Most were pretty cool, a mix of lacrosse and basketball players, but some were pretty skeevy. I'd have to pull her aside and tell her to avoid them when I got the chance.

"Mona, lets just forget about Daphne and have a good time, okay?" I asked, deciding to give it one last shot before leaving. If she kept drinking with her girls, then I wouldn't want to be around her anyways. But if she would agree to let me catch up to her, then maybe we could still have a bit of fun together.

"Make her leave and then I'll talk to you," Mona insisted like a child.

"She's my friend, I'm not going to tell her to leave." Not to mention I needed her help looking for Phil's father's knife.

"Make her leave or we're breaking up!" Mona huffed, crossing her arms like a spoiled toddler.

"You're drunk. I don't want to deal with you like this," I put my hands up in the universal 'I'm done' symbol. "Call me tomorrow Mona, we'll hang out then."

As I walked away, I could hear the whole group start chattering about how much of an ass I was. Whatever, come tomorrow Mona would be calling me. She was acting unreasonable, and she would see it and realize that she needed to apologize. I smirked a little, because her apologies were generally pretty sweet.

With nothing else to do now that Mona wasn't on the timetable for the night, I headed towards Daphne. Might as well get this show on the road.

"Let's just get to work, alright?" I say to her, not worrying about the other guys around her. No way she was going to let any of them score with her anyways, I was just saving them the trouble.

"Sure thing," she said to me. "You take this floor, I'll go upstairs, okay?"

"Uh, people aren't allowed upstairs," Phil spoke up from his spot on Daphne's left.

"Come on Phil, can't I just pop up there really quickly?" Daphne turned to face him, her voice transforming into a sickly sweet version of her normal on. "I have to go to the bathroom, but I really don't want to go where everyone else has gone. Is that okay?"

"Um, yeah okay?" his answer came out like a question. Prick. "Just, uh, go up by yourself." His eyes shot to me and I wanted to laugh out loud. Guy thought I was getting in between him and Daphne? Not in a million years. His own stupidity was enough to do that.

"Thanks Phil," she preened before scampering off. I had to be a little impressed- she managed to turn a 'no' into a 'yes' in less than a minute. Girl knew exactly what she was doing.

There were only two places in the house that would logically hold the knife. And only one was on the main floor. So I sauntered over to the office, and after kicking out the couple that looked like they were thinking of getting cozy, I started to poke around. It didn't take long at all to find the thing. It was just sitting in the top drawer of the desk. If Eric Hooper _was_ the murderer, then he wasn't so hot at covering his tracks.

I quickly snapped a few pictures of the thing and fired them off to Velma. She could do her thing with them and either rule Eric Hooper out as a suspect or finish off the investigation for good. After the pictures were sent I called Daphne, so that she could know that the search was over.

"Well that was quick," she said as she answered.

"It wasn't really hidden or anything."

"Okay, I'll be right down, then we'll head out?"

"What?" my eyebrows furrowed. "Why would we just take off?"

"Um, because we got the knife?"

"Its still a party, Daphne. One that I sort of insisted that they have. I can't just take off after like half an hour."

She sighed, but said, "I guess that's fair. Guess I'll see you at the next team meeting, then."

"What are you talking about? I'm your ride!" She better not be thinking of getting a ride from one of these other guys. They would read way too much into that and she didn't need that sort of hassle.

"I'll just call Jess. There's another party that she wants me to hit, so…"

"You can just hang out here and then I'll drive you home, Daph. You don't need to call one of your friends."

"This isn't really my group of kids, Fred," she told me with a little laugh. "No offense, everyone seems pretty cool, but I'm literally the only Deacon Hill kid here. Have fun though, I'll see you around." And she hung up.

I scowled a little to myself, not really liking the fact that she was leaving. But I quickly shook it off and rejoined the party. Daphne Blake was my partner in crime-solving, and probably my friend, but she sure as hell wasn't my problem.

**DPOV**

I had a slight problem. And its name was Fred Jones. Or, better yet, its name was Mona Ballard. What a bitch.

She was baying for blood for that entire car ride, trying to warn me away from her man. She might not have said it, but I could tell- any girl would have been able to. She thought I was interested, and was both marking her territory and telling me that I wasn't good enough for the likes of her man.

When Jess had picked me up and driven me over to Justin Davidson's house for the get together there, I'd spent the entire time complaining about Mona and how she'd treated me. And maybe a little bit about how Fred hadn't really defended me. Possibly a tiny bit about how he hadn't defended her either, which meant that he knew she was in the wrong.

Jess's brilliant advice had been, "It sounds like you're crushing on this guy, Daph. Watch out, Trailer Park guy might get a little jealous."

And as the night had gone on, Jess's words had kept repeating in my head. Did I really like Fred? He was just my friend, and barely that! But no, it seemed like I had developed other feelings for him, crap.

I did sort of appreciate the irony in Mona's situation, though. If she hadn't been to blatantly possessive, I might never have come to realization that I did indeed like her boyfriend.

But nothing was going to happen, because even though she was a total bitch, I wasn't going to break a couple up. For some reason, he saw something in her. And if he wanted to exhaust himself with the drama that she seemed to live to stir up, then that wasn't any of my business. None at all.

Okay, seriously? I needed to snap out of it. There wasn't any use in thinking about it. I had to work. I'd been meticulously keeping notes on everything that had happened with the case so far, and now wasn't the time to start slacking off. It was looking more and more like we were actually going to accomplish something, and there was no way in hell that my article describing it would be lacking in any way.

I had only just gotten into a groove when my mom burst into my room, completely ignoring my repeated requests that she knock. "Someone's on the phone for you," she chirped, before flinging the landline at me and scampering out of the room.

That was weird. I lifted the thing to my ear and spoke, "Hello? Daphne Blake, here."

"Oh, um, hey Daphne. This is Connor Bryan. I don't know if you remember me, but…"

"Yeah, I remember you." The guy had dated Chloe's older sister for a few months when I was a sophomore, so I'd seen him around when I was at her house.

As I answered, my cell buzzed with a new text. I opened it up once I saw that it was from Fred. Maybe the she-monster wanted to apologize, ha.

**Connor Bryan is going to call. Say yes, its for the case.**

What the hell did that even mean? Had Fred told Connor to call, or did he just happen to know that he was going to? And how did Fred know that Connor was going to ask me something? At that, how did he know exactly what Connor was going to ask? I was also mildly offended at how easily Fred ordered me around via text.

While I was trying to decipher the words, Connor had been speaking, whoops. "Um, sorry Connor, someone was talking to me, could you repeat that?"

"Yeah," he coughed a little bit on the other line. "Sure. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner some time this week."

He was asking me out? And that's what Fred wanted me to say yes to? "Sure, sounds great."

"Really? Awesome. How about you give me your cell number and we can pick a day and time."

I rattled off the numbers to him without thinking too much more about it. So Fred _wanted_ me to go on a date with this guy. That itself was baffling, but he had said that it was for the case. In what alternate universe did semi-blind dates help catch murderers? Fred Jones sure had a lot of explaining to do.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

My mother was very excited about this date with Connor. Apparently she and Mrs. Bryan were buddies at the country club, and the thought of their children getting together put both women into a flutter. But their friendship at least answered my question as to how Connor had gotten my home number, because I knew for a fact that we weren't in the book.

Fred had picked up when I called him after Connor hung up, and answered most of the rest of my questions. I don't know how I had forgotten that Connor was the other one to purchase a knife at the Pawn Shop, but I had. Apparently he and Fred worked out at the same gym, which had given Fred the opportunity to drop my name and hint that Connor should ask me out on a date. And on said date, it would be my job to figure out what kind of knife he had purchased, and if I managed to see it, then even better. I wasn't crazy about being used as a pawn in such a way, but sucked it up. Who else was going to do it?

Connor and I had arranged to meet at a little Italian restaurant in town on Friday night. I had told Jess and Chloe that I was staying in to work on stuff for my internship for the paper, knowing that they would jump on the thought of my actually being on a date. Those girls had way too much fun with my love life, and this wasn't actually a real date. I only had to put up with a few joking cries of 'nerd' instead of hours of in depth questions that I didn't have the answers to.

When I walked into the restaurant, a little bit after six, the hostess informed me that Connor was already there. Punctual man, I liked it. I scoffed a little inside my head. This wasn't a real date, I didn't need to actually see if I liked this guy. This was for the case.

"Daphne, hey," he stood when I approached. "You look great."

"Thanks," I smiled back. "So do you." I was in a purple sundress, fancy enough that it passed in a place like this, but not so fancy that it gave off the illusion that I was trying overly hard. Thankfully, Connor wasn't overdressed either, in dark jeans and a white button down. We sort of matched in our just-barely fancy enough-ness. If that made any sense.

"So, its great to see you," he smiled.

"Yeah, nice of you to call." Even though it had really been Fred's idea, but I wasn't supposed to know that.

"I hear you're working at the paper," he started the conversation. "That sounds pretty cool."

Had this been a real date, I probably would have smiled politely and agreed that yes, it _was_ pretty cool. But this wasn't- so I didn't have to. So instead I said, "Actually, working at the paper's pretty boring. It's not really the type of journalism that I'm interested in pursuing."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to get into investigative journalism. But, uh, there isn't much opportunity for that sort of thing around here, and the paper's really the only up close experience I can get in _any_ form of journalism before college." Not exactly true, but I knew better than to let on to a possible suspect that I was involved in an investigation of any kind.

"Wow, you sure seem focused on your future."

"I am," I shrugged. "They sort of tell you to be, though, don't they? Adults, teachers, parents, all of them."

"You can say that again," he laughed a little. "I was all set to go to Yale, you know? And my folks couldn't have been happier. But I just sort of realized that I didn't give a shit anymore, you know? I mean, its not their future that rides on me getting an ivy league degree, so why should they care?"

"So you just didn't go?"

"Basically," he said just as the server approached us.

I was a shocked, to say the least. Connor had made a possible life-altering decision to just not receive the stellar education that he had earned. He had gotten in, why wouldn't he have tried to profit from that? It was one thing to experience a little bit of teenage rebellion, but such a grand gesture, only for the sake of proving a point to his parents? It seemed amazingly excessive. And I thought I had issues with my parents.

"So, uh, what have you been up to now that you aren't in school anymore?" I asked, trying to direct the conversation to a place where his recent purchasing history may come up.

"I'm just taking my time, living day by day," he said nonchalantly.

"You must have more time on your hands, have you taken up any hobbies or anything?"

"Not really, nothing definite. It's been nice, not having to stick with one thing. I'm sort of staying away from dedication right now. A change of pace, you know?"

"Sure, I get it," even though I didn't.

"What about you? Other than planning obsessively for a picture-perfect future, what does Daphne Blake do for fun?"

Picture-perfect future? Her pride was hurt a little bit by that sarcastic quip, but she pressed on. Not a real date, she had a mission, "Well a couple of my friends have recently gotten into hunting."

Please take the bait, I thought as the server returned with our food. I couldn't even remember what I had ordered.

He grinned smugly and leaned back in his seat. "Hunting? That's interesting, because I picked up hunting for a spell, a few months ago."

"Really?" I twirled my pasta on my fork and did my best to look enthralled with his story. "With a gun and everything?"

"Yep," he had started eating, but was more than happy to continue sharing through mouthfuls of steak. "I went out with some of my dad's work buddies, and we had a blast. Have you gone out with your friends?"

"Uh, yeah once or twice."

"Isn't it just the best feeling? You feel so powerful."

"Totally."

"Yeah, I really enjoyed it. So much that one of the guys even convinced me to try hunting with a knife, they said it was an even better feeling."

"And did you?"

"Nah, I never really got around to it. I bought the thing, but the guy never took me out. He had to go to a conference or something, and by the time he got back I'd moved on to car racing. Like NASCAR, you know? It was pretty freaking cool."

"But you bought a knife?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation from moving on to cars or something else.

"Yeah, just a standard hunting knife," he shrugged. "Nothing super special. A Woodsman, the guy where I bought it said that it was good for the sort of thing I was into."

"Anything else you remember about it?" I pressed, knowing full-well that I would sound weird, and not really caring.

"Um, series 102, I think? It was red on the handle. I don't know, why?"

"No reason, just curious. Like I said, my friends are still pretty into it."

"Oh, well right now I'm pretty into boat racing. Its sort of like car racing, except the water adds a whole other element. You and your friends should really give it a try sometime."

"Sure, it sounds great," I agreed while buzzing with this new information. I quickly excused myself to use the restroom.

Once in the stall, I whipped out my phone and texted Velma with the knife type. After a beat I texted Fred the information as well. He was a pretty big control freak with this investigation, as proved when I had worked with Shaggy behind his back. He'd been pretty mad.

I allowed myself one moment of gloating at the fact that Fred had asked me to be involved in his precious investigation and hadn't thought of including Mona. But then I had to get back to business. I had a second date to get out of.

**AN:**

**So what do you think? Eric Hooper or Connor Bryan? Either one shooting off murdery vibes? Let me know- review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Previously on WTW~ Fred & Daphne party, Daphne goes on a date, knifes are found!**

**VPOV**

"Velma, how long do Poppies take to grow, do you think?" my mom's voice called out from the kitchen.

"The flowers?" I asked, crossing my fingers that this wasn't a problem that I would have leave my room to help with. I'd only just started this new mystery, and putting it down wasn't on my list of things to do anytime soon.

"Yes, if I planted a few, how long until they would bloom?"

Apparently my finger-crossing was for naught, so I put the bookmark in and rose from my bed. I answered as I moved towards where she was sitting at the dining table, staring at a tiny package of poppy seeds. "Poppies don't grow naturally around here, Mom."

"Well yes, I know that," she rolled her eyes. "Oh, did you by any chance empty the compost yesterday? There really isn't as much in there as I figured, and the little guy is pretty hungry."

Her inability to stay on the same train of thought astounded me. "I didn't touch the compost, Mom."

"Do you think there would be pig food at the pet store, then? I really don't think that what's in there right now is enough." She was still reading the little packet of seeds.

"I really don't think Mr. Jameson stocks up on pig food."

"The packet says that they bloom in early summer, but they do well in the cold. Darn, it's been relatively warm this year, hasn't it?"

"We got snow in March, Mom."

"That's right, well- it's still been pretty warm these past few weeks. It's just about early summer, don't you think?"

"Mom, you can't just plant the seeds now and have them spring up in a few days. It takes longer than that."

"Are you sure?" she looked at me for the first time in the entire conversation.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well, okay. I think I'm going to pop down to the pet store and see if they have any pig food."

"They aren't going to, Mom," I warned halfheartedly. Whatever, if it let me get back to my book, then she could run all over the damn town looking for pig food if she wanted.

"I should just buy poppies that have already bloomed and plant them, no one has to know that they don't grow naturally, right?" she mused, pursing her lips.

"Everyone knows that poppies don't grow naturally around here, Mom. No one's ever seen any of them around. They're going to know."

"That just means that they're going to stand out, darling," she patted my cheek condescendingly.

"Why do you need blooming poppies in the first place?"

"Oh, they're going to be a sign from above," she shrugged. "Maybe I could just add more to the compost, build it up so that there's more for the little guy."

The little guy was the pig. The pig that she refused to name. She claimed that until she could be one hundred percent sure that it was given to her with only the best intentions, she just couldn't justify naming it. Because heaven forbid she name it a name that didn't fully express what the pig's intentions were. If only she had been so meticulous about names when she was picking Velma out.

"Adding to the compost sounds better than trying to find actual pig food."

"Hm, I guess I'll go to the store, then." I didn't know if she was talking about the grocery store or the pet store, but I knew better than to ask.

"Don't forget to pick up the poppies, too."

"Oh, yes, can't forget them," she laughs, and I know that she had forgotten them and probably would again. "They're very important to my long standing account with the Sawyers, you know."

"Oh, really?" I try my best to feign an interest.

"Yes, if I can convince Anne that the flowers are a sign from her mother, then I'm practically guaranteed business with them for the rest of time."

So it was another trick, figured. For someone so seemingly scatter-brained, she sure was good at pulling things over on her various clients.

"Why poppies?"

"Poppies signify consolation, dear," she told me as if it was unbelievable that I didn't already know it. "Anne's mother just died, and it only makes sense that her mother would want to console her only child."

"Right." Was Mom a con? Sort of, but I didn't really think about it that way. She wasn't really honest with the people she dealt with, but what she did didn't really hurt anyone. This whole flower fiasco itself would most likely just end up comforting the grieving daughter, and there wasn't anything wrong with that that I could see.

"Bye, darling." With one last wave, she was gone. Knowing her, and her propensity for getting distracted, she would likely be out for hours.

I sighed, but then returned to my book. It wasn't to be, though, because before I could even get past the chapter I was on, there was a knock on the door.

Daphne and Shaggy stood on the other side. What the hell?

"Hey Velm, Shaggy showed me which one was your's, hope that's okay," Daphne spoke first.

"Um, yeah."

"It's very… bright," Daphne raised one eyebrow, making it clear that she had a lot of adjectives that she was holding back about the various poster pasted onto the trailer that I called home. I appreciated the gesture.

"Come on in, guys." They walked in, and Daphne immediately pulled her cell phone out, seemingly checking for messages. Well, she was one of the popular girl's, right? That wasn't so weird. Her expression of total desolation afterward, was pretty weird. Must be a guy.

Shaggy made his way in, and I couldn't help but ask, "Where's Scooby?"

"He's, uh, he's sort of afraid of your pig," Shaggy ran a hand through his hair. "Won't come near this place when the pig's out front. So I had to leave him at home this time."

"Scooby's, like three times the size of the pig, Shaggy," I felt the need to point out.

He shrugged then looked away, clearly not interested in continuing that particular conversation. Not that I blamed him. Wasn't a dog that big supposed to be fearless?

"So we just wanted to stop in for an update," Daphne said, shifting the conversation towards the case. "Fred's sort of climbing up the walls, trying to figure out what's next. He's too nice to pressure you into speeding things up, but clearly I'm not." Weird that she would mention Fred, and even take the time to compliment him.

"Well, I don't have any good news," I admitted. "Neither of the knives that you guys found would have been what made cuts like there were on the victims. The one that Fred found had a very distinct shape at the end, and the cuts it makes are very unique- the authorities would have picked up on its use right away. And the hunting knife that you found had a cutting radius that was too big, if that makes any sense."

"So it's a dead end," Daphne's shoulders slumped.

"I mean, that particular strand of the case is, yes. But that's not the end of things. I've been trying to connect the dots between the two victims, to see if there is anything there that can be used."

"And have you found anything?"

"Not yet. Well, nothing really. I had wanted to get something pretty substantial before breaking the bad news to you guys, soften a blow a little bit I guess." I might not have always been super into this whole werewolf investigation, but I knew that it was Fred's baby and Daphne's pride. Plus, now that we were looking for a man and not a mythical monster, I was able to take the whole thing a whole lot more seriously.

"Sort of sounds like you found something, when you talk like that," Shaggy spoke up.

"I mean, they were both involved in the political races, but they were working for different sides, doing totally different things. The first guy was actually working for Elliot Reese, Walter Blake's number one opponent in the next race? He was just a page, though, practically a secretary. Victor Freeman was a worker in the race of one of the independent parties that were trying to gather enough support to enter a candidate. It wasn't likely to happen, but he worked tirelessly at it nonetheless. I don't know, it didn't seem like much of a connection to me."

"And that was all you could find?"

"I've been looking, I really have. But that's it."

"I mean, it's a start, right?" Shaggy said.

Sure, its a start.

**SPOV**

"Get in the van, Rogers," Fred announced as I passed by. He was leaning against the ugly ass thing, arms crossed, probably trying to look intimidating. Well, mission accomplished dude.

People from all around started staring at me. Why me? I wasn't the one who was accosting people innocently walking home. That was Freddie boy, they should be staring at him. Not that they would risk pissing off their hero, or whatever.

"Don't just stand there, get in," he ordered when he'd decided that I'd gone too long without blindly following him.

I hated people like this, ones who just expected everyone to bend to their every whim. It had been a pretty bad day- I usually didn't have to go to school on Mondays, but Dad was still lurking around home and skipping wasn't so much an option. Anyways, I wasn't in a mood to be ordered around any more than I already had. Freddie-boy was pushing it.

But, of course, I did eventually get into the stupid van. Because I wanted to keep my face the way it was.

"We have to go pick up Velma and Daph, then we're all heading out," Fred informed me as he got in.

"Nobody told me we were doing case shit today."

"I didn't know until third period, actually. Daph and I were texting and I got this idea. I thought we should visit the family of the injured guy. They live in the area, so we won't have to be on the road for too long. Plus I don't have practice until later tonight, so it all works."

"I might have had plans, you know."

"Oh, my bad," the ass scoffs. "You have someone waiting for you on a streetcorner somewhere? Or maybe you want to go meet up with some freshmen again, and make them buy you're skeevy ass product? Don't be an idiot, Rogers, this is more important."

Again, I swallow my words. Because I'm no idiot.

"I figured Velma would still be at the school, you go in and get her, and I'll go and pick Daphne up. We'll meet you two back here in fifteen. Think you can handle that?"

"Whatever, dude. I'll do it."

"I know."

The rest of the ride is silent. Fred doesn't have anything else to add, and I'm not dumb enough to speak up. He dumps me at the doors of the ridiculously pretentious school, and wheels off. I can't believe where I was. How in the hell was I supposed to find one person in this huge place? The school itself was bigger than the entire Trailer Park. Maybe not exactly, but damn near enough to make finding Velma almost impossible.

"Hey," a chirpy voice came from my side. "You lost?"

I turned to face the pretty blonde who was standing next to me. She looked like she was a little shy of an intellectual, the way she was standing with her head tilted just so. Hot, sure, but maybe not the smartest bolt in the barrel. "Do I look lost?"

"You don't look like anyone I've ever seen before," Blondie giggled, the way that all girls like her giggle.

"Then I guess I'm lost."

"I'm Jess," she smiles. "Can I help you with anything?"

She definitely could. But Freddie-boy was going to be back in thirteen minutes, and I really didn't have time. Especially if I was going to need to find Velma in this monstrosity of a place. "Do you know where Velma Dinkley is?"

"Um, I don't know who that is," she giggled again, as if that sentence was funny for any reason.

"You don't seem to know a lot of people."

"Oh, I know plenty of people," she ensured me. "Important people, at least. I can help you look for her, if you want. Is she your girlfriend?"

"No, just a friend."

"Awesome," she gets impossibly more bubbly. "Well where do you think she would be? School's already out, so she probably isn't in class anymore."

Where would Velma be hanging out after school? I doubted she booked it out of there as fast as possible like I did- this place was a hundred times nicer than any trailer. Plus she had a pig at her place, not a Scooby. I couldn't really blame her for hanging out as long as possible. "Um, library?" Velma liked to read, right?

With the help of Jess, I managed to get to the library without getting lost. And lo and behold, there she was. Sitting at a table, reading. Score one for Shaggy, I'd guessed right.

"Oh, wow, I know you!" Blondie chirped, this time in Velma's direction. "You were in the bathroom the other day, right? Wow, small world, right?"

"We were in the same gym class last year," Velma spoke without looking up from her book, which seemed like the perfect response to me.

"Right, totally! I meant, like, how I knew you from this year," the girl tried her best to save herself, looking at me with a grin. "So, like, I guess I'll see you guys later? Right, V? I'll see you in school tomorrow. And um, I'll see you around too? Maybe?"

"Maybe," I said, not in the mood to commit to anything.

Blondie sauntered off, in such a way that I knew she thought I was watching. Which I guess I was- but that wasn't the point. I looked back to Velma, "Fred has a scheme. We have to be outside in ten."

"I have homework," she pointed to what I now noticed was a textbook that she had been reading.

"I don't think Fred cares."

"Well maybe I don't care about Fred's scheme," she huffs. But she moves to pack up her bag anyways, so its clear that her little comment isn't actually true.

Neither of us want to be there, standing outside the school waiting for him to show up, that much is clear. But, we are. Like the dutiful little puppies that we are to Freddie-boy. It's no wonder I'm scowling.

He does show, five minutes late, with Daphne in tow. "Get in," he says. What a charmer.

"It's like a twenty minute drive," Daphne explains as Fred drives off. "We'll be there in no time."

Velma pulls out her book again and continues reading. Well at least she's able to continue doing what she wanted to be doing. I needed to get home to feed and walk Scooby, plus my Dad is still home and he's going to be pissed that I'm not coming home right away. Damn Fred.

We make it there after a good twenty minutes of silent brooding from me, reading from Velma, and Freddie and Daphne singing along to the radio. Badly, for the record. The place is nice enough. Nicer than my digs, for sure. We spill out of the van and walk up to the front door. Of course Fred's the one who knocks.

Its a nice older lady who answers the knock. She's older than my dad, for sure. But not as old as my ancient science teacher- somewhere in between. She's dressed like the typical old lady, in clothes that she could have possibly made herself.

"Can I help you kids?"

"Yes, hello," Daphne chooses to speak up. "My name is Daphne Blake, are you Amelia Freeman?"

"Yes?"

"We, uh, we'd like to speak with you about your son, Victor? Do you have any time right now?"

"Not much, but I'm sure I can squeeze you lot in. Do you know Victor from his work?"

"Yes," the lie falls easily off of Daphne's tongue, and I try to look agreeing.

"What did you kids want to know? Victor's actually getting out of the hospital in a day or so, you can always just speak to him then, you know."

"We want to get a comprehensive view of your son, and getting some opinion from you, as his mother, would really just be really useful. So we were just wondering, how involved were you in your son's life?"

"Oh, nothing more than the typical mother does with her adult son," she titters a little. "We talked on the phone every now and then, not as often as I would have liked, I'll admit."

"And did he ever speak to you about his personal life?"

"What do you mean? Like women?"

"Um, not so much women, as enemies. We're just wondering if your son ever reported or spoke of having any enemies in his personal life. An ex, or a guy who took something the wrong way, or really anything like that."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," she raised her thin hand up to her heart in a fluttery fashion. "Victor is a very likeable guy, I assure you."

"But if someone were looking for enemies of Victor's, where would you guess they would have to look"

"Well, if I had to point the finger anywhere- then I would point it towards his work, I guess. Like I said, he was a great guy. Bit if he had anyone who would wish him harm, then it must have been politically. Politics is a game, after all."

"Yes, so we've heard," Daphne smiled blandly, as if her dad weren't in the game himself.

"That Blake character, Victor would talk about him being pretty dangerous. He mentioned him a few times, I'm pretty sure. Yes, I'm positive. If you kids want to deal with an enemy of Victor, them I'm sure you need to be looking at Walter Blake."

We all look at Daphne, trying to figure out how she would react. Hoping that it wouldn't be badly, is more like it. But she handled it like a pro- like the true child of a politician in fact. She only smiled and said, "Thank you so much Ms. Freeman. We appreciate it!"

"Bye kids, thanks for stopping by!"

We all headed back to the van, and Fred started driving without speaking. I don't think any of us were expecting that. We each got dropped off one by one, and I climbed out of the side after Velma had been dropped back off at the school and her car. I shot Daphne a look before getting out, but she was just staring stoically ahead, hardly even blinking.

**A/N:**

**Here it is! Thanks so much for everyone's patience and reviews- you're all amazing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Previously on WTW- Velma comes up with a new link, the gang goes on an interview!**

**FPOV**

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit. I couldn't believe what I was staring at. Not that I had any choice but to believe it, because there it was. Right in front of me. On the computer screen.

"Fred? Dude, you look like you just saw a ghost," the ever-helpful Matt chose to chime in.

"They found another body over by Welker Trails," I managed to bite out.

"Seriously? Man, that's a bummer. Anyone we know?" He speaks with the appropriate amount of interest. He's sad, but not so much so to be freaking out in public. That's what I needed to be acting like. I needed to push this aside until I was out of English class and sitting in the middle of the computer lab at the very least.

"Um, no, no one that we know. I was just thinking- I go there all the time, you know?"

Matt chuckles, "Right, as if some wild animal would be able to take you out, dude."

I laugh along, because I know that it will get Matt off my back. It works, and I'm left along to wallow. Because that's what I'm doing, really. I'm wallowing. I'm such a girl.

Damn, I can't do this. I can't be at school like this. So, I switch off the monitor in front of me and stand to go over to my teacher. This class is a joke, anyways. He shouldn't mind me taking off.

"What do you want, Jones?" he asks when he finally notices my approach.

"I- uh- I'm not feeling very good. Can I go to the nurse?" Nurse Tucker's chill, she won't say no to me taking off.

"What do you mean you're not feeling well?" the old man snaps, as if I'd just insulted him personally.

"Um- what?" Because how else could I clarify that?

"Are you bleeding?" he continued to press.

"No?" Damn, that probably shouldn't have come out as a question.

"About to vomit on the computers?"

"No."

"In any danger of passing out? Of a heart attack? Or maybe a stroke?"

"No."

"Then I think you can manage until you get home, Jones."

"What the hell?" It wasn't my voice that shouted it, but it easily could have been. This ass was talking crazy, and I gave Matt a nod of thanks for standing up to cover my back like that.

"That is no way to speak to a superior, Moore. And this conversation did not include you in the first place."

"You sent Trisha to the nurses _yesterday_," Matt crossed his arms over his chest. That was one thing about my boy, he wasn't going to let something that he viewed as an injustice pass by without saying something. He generally knew when to keep his trap shut, but only when he respected someone. Not in the case of the ass hat English teacher.

"Well that was different," the man huffed. Ass. That was only different because Trisha cried about cramps, and the dude got all awkward and shooed her out. Everyone knew she just wanted to go out and meet up her boyfriend for a quickie. Girls got all the luck- boys didn't have such a bulletproof excuse.

"Bullshit."

"One more word like that out of you, Moore, and you're getting a referral. You too, Jones."

"You'd give him a referral just because I talked?"

"Maybe it would teach you boys a very necessary lesson about respecting authority."

"As if you actually had any," Matt said under his breath. But I cringed, because I knew it wasn't quiet enough to go unheard, and would probably be the straw to break the English teacher's back.

"Both of you. Office, now," he pointed towards the door. "And I'll be calling down to check that you actually go."

We both stalk off without another word, because we know that there isn't anything else to say. Well, Matt's probably itching to leave with the last word, but he thankfully follows my example and keeps quiet.

"Sorry about that, man," he speaks once we're outside.

"Nah, its cool. Price isn't going to care, you know that."

"Still, you have to deal with this bullshit."

I don't give a response, because I don't really have one. Anyways, we were at the front office by then. As we walk in, one of the secretaries is speaking on the phone, "Oh, yes, they're just walking in now."

That idiot actually called to check on us. Damn.

"Boys," Mr. Price greets us when we walk in. He gestures, and we sit our butts in the blue chairs. Neither of us are tense, though- we know that we won't really get into trouble.

"So Mr. Holmes isn't overly pleased with either of you. He seems to think that you two should be suspended."

Matt scoffed, and I spoke up, "He wouldn't let me go to the nurse when I asked to, and Matt was standing up for it."

"That was all?"

Holmes had probably told Mr. Price that we had set a desk on fire, or something. "Yes, that's all. No big deal."

"No big deal? How do you think your father would like hearing about this?"

Honestly? Dad would probably only be a little ticked that I had let Matt fight my battle for me, and gotten him in trouble. But that wasn't the answer Price wanted. "I don't think he'd be too happy."

"That's what I thought. And you, Mr. Moore? How would your parents feel?"

"Probably the same." Which was also a lie, because his parents were the type of people who always stood up for justice. All Matt would have to do would be paint it so that he was standing up against the man, and they'd probably raise his allowance or something.

"So why wouldn't he let you go to the nurse, Jones?"

"Said it wasn't urgent enough for me to leave."

"And was it?"

I shrug, which is answer enough for him.

"Alright, well he shouldn't have not let you leave for a medical reason, regardless of its validity."

"So we're not in trouble?" Matt asked.

"No, I wouldn't say so."

"So I can go to the nurse, then?" Because I still really wanted to just get home.

He laughed a little bit, "I wouldn't say that either. You have a game tomorrow, Jones. A very important one at that."

It wasn't really that important, we were a lock for the playoffs no matter what. But an undefeated record meant a lot to him, I guess.

"If you leave school now, you will not have been here for half a day. And what does that mean?"

"That I can't go to practice."

"And if you miss the practice before a game?"

"No game." Damn, he had me there. Teachers and classes were one thing, but they couldn't really bend the actual rules from the school handbook for me. And I had to be in that game. The team was toast without me. "Okay, fine."

"Good. Now, it would probably be best if you boys don't return to English class, so here's a pass to the library. I don't want to hear that you pissed third period, though, alright? Either of you."

"Yes, sir," we both speak at once.

"And it would probably be best if you looked properly chastised when you go into class tomorrow, alright boys?"

We both smirk a little bit at the reminder that we weren't getting into any sort of trouble, but nod our agreement as well.

On our way to the library, I take a left instead of a right. Matt doesn't question me on it, he just follows. We head into the parking lot and I get into the van. I might not be able to leave for the day, but that didn't mean that I had to spend the remainder of the day in class. Mrs. Leonard just marked everyone present no matter where they were, so I didn't have anywhere to be until fourth, at least.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"Hey, I got your text. What's up?" Daphne was there, on my front porch. Wow, she'd gotten here pretty quick. I'd only spur of the moment decided to text her and ask her to come over. I'd half figured that she would have had plans or something.

"I need someone to get drunk with, and you're perfect." I grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

"What?"

"Shaggy doesn't drink, Velma's a goody-goody, and no one else would understand. So that leaves you." I try to smile convincingly, but I'd already had a few, so it might not have come out right. Whatever.

"Why are you getting drunk in the first place?" We'd gotten to my room by now, and I handed her the bottle of beer that I'd been nursing and reached for a new one.

"Because what we're doing isn't working, so I just thought I'd try something else." I point to the bottle in her hand, and she takes a pull like a good sport.

"Fred, I don't know what you're talking about."

"They found another body, did you know that? You probably did, you're smart. You're a _journalist._"

Her eyes got softer, or maybe I'd just officially gotten drunk. "Yeah, I did hear about that. I know, it sucks."

"I know you know," I lean back onto my bed. "You know, because you're in it. None of my other friends are in it, they don't know that I should have been able to stop it, you know?"

"This isn't your fault." She sits on the side of the bed, but I don't like having to look up to talk to her, so I pull her down so that we're laying side by side.

"Where are your parents?" she asks when I don't continue the conversation.

"Mom's with her sister, or something, for the week. Dad's working."

"Okay," she says softly. I think I like it when she speaks softly.

I turn to look at her, and narrow my eyes, "I don't think you're getting drunk with me."

"That's 'cuz I'm not," she answers with a small smile.

"Why not? I told you that this is the mystery gang's new plan of action."

"I think that our old plan of action was going pretty well."

"If it had been going well then someone else wouldn't be dead," I snapped. As soon as I did, I felt bad. It wasn't her fault that the old plan sucked. That was on me.

"We only like _just_ started investigating, Fred, you can't expect it to work right away."

"Lets- lets just focus on the new plan, okay?" I stare at her until she reaches over and takes another pull of beer. "Good."

We were quiet for a long time, when Daphne asked, "Why didn't you call Mona and ask her to come over?"

"Because Mona doesn't get it." What a simple question. Why was she asking my simple questions?

"If Mona doesn't get it, then why are you with her? Shouldn't you be with someone who gets it?"

"Maybe. Shaggy gets it. Maybe I should date him," I snigger, because that's funny.

She doesn't say anything to my Shaggy joke, so I lean closer, "You get it. Thanks for coming over, Daphne."

"I don't like that you're getting drunk to deal with this."

"I-" I pause and look at her, like really look at her. "I wasn't the hero, Daph. And I was supposed to be. But I couldn't be that guy's hero."

She closes her eyes, as if she's trying to think of an answer. But she can't, and I know that. Because I'd spent the whole day trying to think of an answer to that. But I didn't- so I'd just come up with the new plan. And as I laid there with her, I thought of a good addition to the plan.

So I kissed her. And maybe I'd succeeded in getting her drunk, because she responded pretty well.

**DPOV**

There was nothing better than waking up in a good mood. Usually waking up in such a great mood would have meant that I'd had a pretty kickass dream, but this was no dream. It had actually happened.

It being me and Fred. Fred and I. We'd happened. And I couldn't keep the smile from my face. After yesterday, I knew that everything was going to work itself out. It was that perfect.

"We need to talk." The words froze my good day in its tracks. For a split second I actually thought that Fred had come to my school to let me down easy- but then I shook my head and realized that it was actually a female's voice that I had heard. And one of my best friends' voices at that- geez Daphne get a grip.

"What's up guys?" I spun around to see Chloe standing with her arms crossed and her bitch-face on. Jess just looked mildly concerned.

"Yeah, that's kind of the question, isn't it?" Chloe sneers.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"It means that something's up with you Daph, and as your best friends we have the right to know what it is."

"What are you talking about? Nothing's up with me!"

"We were supposed to hang out last night. All three of us. Remember any of that?"

Oh, no. We'd been planning on going prom dress shopping. I'd actually been looking forward to it, too. But when Fred had texted me- "Shit, I'm so sorry guys. Something came up and I totally spaced and-"

"What came up?" Chloe challenged.

"What? I mean-"

"Because I called your mom when I couldn't get ahold of you. She said you were out. Way to answer your phone, by the way. I even called you this morning, and nothing."

Huh? I glanced at my bag, confused. How had I not noticed the missed calls? Damn, I must have left it at Fred's house. Well, at least I had an excuse to go back, right?

"Daphne!" Jess shrieked, "You aren't even paying attention!"

"Of course I'm paying attention!" I insisted, even thought it might not have strictly been true. But how could I be expected to focus on anything with memories of last night floating around?

"So where were you?"

"With- uh, with a guy."

"Shit, Trailer Park guy?" Chloe scoffed. "Is he was this is all about? Because you've never, ever changed for a guy- and if you tell me that that's what happening right now, then I might be even more pissed at you."

"No, you know I wouldn't ever change for a guy." They seriously needed to get a grip.

"I had to pick you up from a Glenfield party last Friday! It wasn't even a mixed party, it was _just_ Glenfield kids!" Jess spoke up, her tone indicating that this was a very serious crime.

"So, what, now you're hanging out with this guy in public, too? Trailer Park guys are one thing, Daph. But that sort of stuff is kept private," Chloe said.

"Don't be a snob, Chlo," I can't help but say.

"Plus you're literally _always_ busy," she doesn't even notice my remark. "I get that you have some secret boyfriend or whatever, but we're your _best friends_. That always used to come first."

"Of course you guys come first! I don't have a secret boyfriend, but if I did then that wouldn't matter! You know that!"

"Then who were you with last night?" Its clear from her tone that Chloe doesn't expect me to answer- which would sort of prove the secret part of her theory.

So I sigh and brace myself for their questions. "Fred Jones."

Both sets of eyes looked ready to pop out of their heads. Chloe recovered first. "Well, if it _had_ to be a Glenfield guy, then there isn't much better you could get."

"He's pretty awesome," I admit.

"So are you guys, like, dating?" Jess asked. "Because I thought that he was dating some bitchy blonde girl?"

I didn't really have an answer for that. In all honesty, Mona hadn't crossed my mind all morning. Sure, I'd brought her up last night, but Fred hadn't seemed at all interested in her. Which was a good sign, right? Right, it had to be.

"It's probably best that you aren't in a relationship with him right now anyways," Chloe said, interrupting my inner panic. "He may be cream of the crop and all, but he's still from _Glenfield. _Plus his dad's a cop and that would just be a bit of a bummer at parties or whatever." She sounded her usual self, but I knew her well enough to know that it was her way of giving me an out- her way of telling me that it was okay that I wasn't sure if I was dating him or not. If we did eventually become an official couple, then I knew that Chloe would be the first on board.

"You guys are great. Really, you're the best friends I could ever ask for."

"Thanks, Daphne," Jess squealed while Chloe flipped her hair and said, "I know."

"So just, uh, keep us updated okay?" Chloe ordered, her voice softer now. "You can't just block us out again, Daph. I mean, I guess I understand your weird behavior now, so its cool."

"I'll do better at keeping you guys in the loop, I promise." I felt sort of bad at that, because I wasn't really keeping them in it. I wasn't telling them about the investigation. But I couldn't do that, and I knew it. They wouldn't understand. Boys was one thing- they were totally there for me in that regard- but trying to find a murderer was a completely different matter.

"You want to ditch today? We could all go out and just hang out?" Jess offered.

"I have that exam in second today," Chloe groaned. "And Stevens is going to have my ass if I miss another trig class."

"Another time," I agree with Chloe. "Soon."

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"You what?" Its probably the loudest I've ever heard her.

"Hooked up. Last night," I repeat for her.

Velma had come over for the tutoring sessions that my mother was still insisting we have. It had sort of morphed into just silently studying next to each other, but it made my mom happy because she was all proud of herself for hiring someone to do my homework for me. Normally we didn't really speak much, other than my occasional request for clarification on a subject. But today I had news.

"Like, the hooked up that could possibly result in a baby?"

What? "No! It was just a spur of the moment thing! We didn't… we only hooked up!"

"I don't know what that means. Its pretty vague," she shrugged, seemingly unbothered in admitting it.

"It means that- that- ugh I don't want to talk about this in my living room with my mom lurking around. Lets go to the library or something."

"Fine," she shrugged again. She packed quickly, and I honestly couldn't tell if it was because she was excited to hear the gossip or excited to get to the library. Velma was a strange girl.

We take separate cars, because she had driven to my house, but meet up again at the town library. The only times I came here were for team meetings, so it felt almost wrong to be going in any other circumstance. Oh well, it offered more privacy than having my mother in the next room. And while she wouldn't be upset or even shocked to hear that I'd hooked up with someone, she might be even more upset than Chloe that it had been a Glenfield guy. What a snob.

"Daphne Blake," a bitter sounding voice called out to me.

There were usually tables outside the doors to the library; sometimes Girl Scouts were selling cookies, sometimes churches were having bake sales, or maybe the Red Cross was trying to get volunteers for blood drives. But this group had posters screaming 'Take away Blake!' and 'We want our votes back!'. Oh no, this didn't look good.

It wasn't the first time I'd been accosted by angry voters. But it _was_ the first time that I'd done it without my dad right there. They had never approached me without him there too.

"Miss Blake, what do you think about your father's position on the newest education bill?" A guy with a ridiculous looking beard asked me.

"Um-" Its all they let me get out.

"Oh, well it probably doesn't affect you, right? Your Daddy put you through private school, so that you wouldn't be forced to suffer the effects of his negligence to the state's public school system!"

"I-"

"Well you might think that you're above it all, but you should remember that we're here too, being affected by your father's bad decisions," it's a woman who speaks this time, her hair really short and sticking in all directions.

"The world doesn't revolve around the Blakes, despite what your father might have told you," the first guy snaps. The other people at the table are all leveling me with glares. What did they expect me to do? Yell? Cry? I sort of felt like doing both.

"Come on Daphne," Velma is suddenly there, pushing at my back. "Let's just go inside, okay?"

"Take away the Blakes!" A voice called out, following me into the building.

"You want to talk about it?" Velma asks, shooting me a glance.

"No, not really." I was really uncomfortable with the entire confrontation, and didn't feel like rehashing it.

"Okay," and just like that- she dropped it. We found a table and went back to studying in silence. And it was just like before, her reading furiously and me occasionally interrupting to ask a question.

**A/N: Yikes! So, thoughts on Fred and Daphne? Will they, won't they? What do you want to see? Let me know!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Previously on WTW: Another body is found and some Fred & Daphne drama!**

**VPOV**

"So I have no idea what the prom situation is," Chloe Harrison was complaining into her ridiculously nice cell phone. She was sprawled out across her bed as if I weren't in the room, waiting for her to finish up her phone call.

"I mean, obviously I'm going with Alex. And you're still on with Justin?"

This was ridiculous. Her mother was paying me by the hour to be here, and Chloe seemed to have absolutely no regard for that. Sure, in the past, I had always just completed her assignments for her- it seemed easier than trying to actually get information through her superficial skull- but I had been planning on changing that today. If Daphne could go it herself, then Chloe could too. The girl wasn't always going to have someone to do her homework for her, I was trying to do her a favor and teach her how to write a halfway decent essay.

"And who even knows what's going on with Daphne anymore. I mean, I get that she's getting freaky with Hotty Lacrosse Star, but has she totally forgotten that Prom is like, just around the corner? If she's going to get him to ask her, then she needs to get on with it, because time is ticking and guys are getting snatched up!"

So these two knew about Fred and Daphne too. That was interesting. When Daphne had told me, she'd acted like it was some state secret. Didn't she know that in telling even one of her friends, it was practically guaranteed to get around? I knew how girls like this were.

"Right? And she's spending, like, all her time with him, too! How many guys are going to be interested in taking her when she hasn't been out in ages!" Right, as if there was actually a guy that Daphne Blake didn't have a shot in getting.

"Whatever. Did you get your dress? We're all wearing black, right?"

This conversation didn't sound like it was going to be wrapping up anytime soon, and I did have to eventually be home. I'd forgotten to feed the damn pig this morning, and Mom probably hadn't thought of doing it when she'd gotten home. Maybe I could just start on the outline of the assignment? That wouldn't be the same as writing it for Chloe, it would just be a way for me to spend time and hopefully have her finish the thing before midnight.

"Well just tell Justin to _get_ a grey tux. Hell, I'll call him myself and tell him."

Another phone call? Had she totally forgotten about me? I shifted a little in my seat at her desk, hoping to make enough noise to draw her attention. It worked, and she glanced my way. Her mouthing 'what?' with an annoyed expression was not the result I had wanted, though.

"Huh? Sorry Jess I missed that, my tutor's here. No, I can talk, why? Oh, don't worry about her, its fine."

Alright then. So she definitely wouldn't be doing any work on her own. I couldn't say I was overly surprised. I'd given it a shot; some people just couldn't handle anything except being coddled. Whatever, it wouldn't be on my head when this girl couldn't function in society later on.

"Well we were _supposed_ to have the after-party at Daphne's, but now we'll probably have to change that with her dad back."

So Daphne's father was strict? I suppose that made sense. He was a politician- it probably wouldn't do well for his image to have his underage daughter throwing wild parties.

"I know! He's just so intense and creepy," Chloe continued chattering. "I mean of course I love Daph, but her dad is seriously weird. Too serious, but you know what I'm talking about!"

Chloe Harrison, one of Daphne's supposed best friends, though that Walter Blake was creepy? Too intense? Weird? That was a serious red flag.

When that woman, the mother of the living victim, had mentioned Mr. Blake, I'd sort of written it off. He was Daphne's father, and a prominent local politician at that. Sure politics wasn't the cleanest of games, but sordid affairs weren't quite the same thing as murders. Plus, Walter Blake had been in Washington for two out of the three murders, so he had a pretty solid alibi.

But the man was rich, I could clearly see that whenever I went over to Daphne's house. There was plenty of money in the Blake pocketbook, more than enough to hire someone to do any dirty work that needed doing. If someone as rich as Walter Blake wanted someone to be quieted forever, then I had no doubts that he could get it done.

Had I overlooked something vital? Was there a serious suspect to be found in Walter Blake? Shit, I needed to get home and look into this.

And feed the turtle, right. Couldn't forget that again.

"Where are you going?" Chloe spoke, and I didn't bother looking up at her. Maybe Jess was going on an exotic summer vacation.

"Tutor Girl. Velma, whatever, where do you think you're going?"

Oh, so she was talking to me. I stopped packing up for a moment to look at her standing akimbo in front of me. "I'm going home."

"We're not done here."

"I am. I have stuff to do, and I need to get home."

"You have stuff to do here too. I have an English essay due _Friday._"

"I outlined something for you. You can use it do complete the assignment if you want."

"Um, no. I want you to do what I'm freaking paying you to do, and write the whole damn thing, just like you've always done."

"I'm pretty sure you can write your own essay, Chloe. The words in the outline aren't too big, don't worry." I don't know where the snarky attitude came from, but I all of a sudden found myself incapable of backing down from her. Her angry expression didn't really scare me, there wasn't much she could do to me.

"Okay, you need to watch what you say, tutor girl. But I'm going to be nice and not take that as an insult."

"Do whatever you want- I'm going home."

"Like hell you are. We've had this arrangement for over a year and all of a sudden you're refusing to be a part of it? Walk out that door and I'll just find someone else to write this thing for me."

The past two years at Deacon Hill just sort of exploded out of me in that moment, "Find someone else, then! You know, being tutored is a sign that you can take initiative and want to succeed in life. Hiring someone to do all of your assignments for you is just taking the easy way out of things, and its just a sign of what's going to come your way in life. You're just going to take the easy route. And sure, your money allows you to do that right now, but one day things are going to be different. And it might behoove you to try and change and learn how to buckle down and get things done."

"You bitch! You think I'm such a slacker? I have _dyslexia_. Ever heard of it? It means that to write the damn essay that I need to keep my parents off my back, I would be up all freaking night. So yeah, I take the easy way, but I'm not some idiot socialite like you seem to think I am!"

Dyslexia? "Wha- I didn't-"

"I know you didn't. No one does. They just I'm stupid, or 'street smart', or whatever they want to label it. But I don't need some holier than thou attitude from you, because you don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Uh, listen, Chloe-"

"Whatever. Go, I'll find someone else to do it."

"I'm-"

"Sorry? Yeah, sure. You meant you said, tutor girl. But maybe next time you'll stop judging someone for the fact that they have more money than you and at least let them open their mouths before you've made a decision on who they are as a person. Now go."

So I went. As I climbed into my car, which was parked next to Chloe's brand new BMW, I tried to reflect on what she had said. Did I judge the people at Deacon Hill too quickly? Maybe. It was possible. I _was _ sort of blinded by the obvious differences between myself and those around me; I didn't take the time to look for the similarities.

But, the other kids at Deacon Hill did the same thing. They knew I wasn't like them, and they left me to my own devices. I didn't do anything to them that they didn't do to me. Hell, I was just being a normal teenager, making snap judgments.

I pulled out of her driveway and headed home, telling myself that I would think about it later. I had other things on my mind.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

"Hey, can I come over? I need to talk to you, it's about the case."

"Oh, okay? Sure, no one's home right now. Come on over," he answered.

With that positive response, I hopped off of my bed, patted the pig in farewell, and headed out the door. Mom was flipping through a big book of astrological signs, so I knew she wouldn't be missing me. And this was important. I had been stewing over this whole Walter Blake thing for two days, and now I needed to act on it.

It was a quick journey over to Shaggy's home- one that I had completed time and time again when we were children. Back in elementary school, while his mother was still around and before he'd fallen off of the academic track, we'd been pretty good friends. But then we grew up a little and the discovery of cooties barred boys and girls from really being friends anymore. By the time we'd mastered the cootie shot, things had changed. I'd figured it would be forever, especially when I transferred to Deacon Hill. But this whole mystery had brought us back together. Funny how that worked out.

I knocked on the door, and he shouted for me to just come in. So I opened the door and was met with an apprehensive looking Scooby. Well, maybe met wasn't the right word. The dog was actually peeking out at me from the little coffee table, but he was so big that the little thing wasn't doing anything to block his body from me.

"Hiya Scooby," I knelt down and put my hand out to him. When Shaggy, or Norville as he had been then, and I were friends, Scooby hadn't been around yet. In fact, the dog had only seen me once or twice before. Poor thing didn't know me from Adam.

"You hungry?" Shaggy appeared, almost out of thin air, startling me. "We probably have some food still. I haven't run to the store in a few days but..."

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Okay," he hopped up onto one of the kitchen counters, facing me. "So what's up? And why aren't you telling the others about it?"

"I just- I don't know if the other two should hear this."

He looked confused. "If its about the case then they should hear it. Hell, the whole thing is Freddie's dream-child."

"I know, it just- its not actually evidence or anything. It's just this hunch that I have, and I don't think either of them is really going to like it."

"A hunch? About what?"

"A prime suspect."

He'd been leaning back on the counter before this, his body language screaming that he didn't really care what was being said. But at my words his leaned forward and laced his fingers between his knees. "Who?"

I had to take a deep breath before getting it out, "Walter Blake."

"Wait- like Daphne's dad? That Walter Blake?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then," he leaned back, putting his still laced fingers behind his head. "That definitely explains why you didn't want to tell Daphne this. Not sure I understand why it had to be kept from Fred, though."

Because Fred and Daphne are probably a thing, and he most likely wouldn't be able to keep it from her, I wanted to say. But even if Daphne's _friends_ were blabbing about her and Fred, I had a feeling that it was supposed to be a secret. So instead I said, "Fred's so involved in this. Like you said, it's his dream-child. If I gave him a name, he would run with it no questions asked. And I'm not even close to being sure about this. I want to be sure before I tell him."

"Makes sense. But why Walter Blake?"

"He just- he keeps popping up, you know? We keep hearing his name, and from all accounts he isn't a very good guy. And his has a motive, which is more than anyone else we could name."

Shaggy didn't respond for a while. He just pursed his lips and looked deep in thought. Then, after a moment, he nodded slightly. "Yeah, I guess. And motive's pretty important, in the long run. At least, its important on CSI."

"You watch CSI?"

He shrugged, "Since we started this, I've caught a few episodes. It's on when I wake up on the days when I don't have to go to school, so."

Internally, I sighed a little bit. Norville Rodgers had been my friend, someone who went to school with me and lived in the same Trailer Park. But Shaggy? He was an entirely different person. His skipping school and everpresent nonchalant attitude were just two things that were different. Different from Norville, and different from me. Hopefully we'd be able to be real friends again, but we'd have to find some similarities between us first.

**SPOV**

"Name?" the mean-looking blonde woman barked at me. Well, woof woof, bitch.

"Shaggy Rodgers," I answered, just as sharply.

"I don't have a 'Shaggy' on this list," she sneered.

"Then just check for Rodgers." Duh.

"I have a Norville Rodgers."

"That's me."

"I thought you said Shaggy?"

Cripes, was this woman for real? "It's a nickname." As if some parent would have actually named me Shaggy.

"Well, if you're still planning on interning here with the Blake campaign, then you're going to have to go by Norville. This is a professional establishment, and we don't condone the use of ridiculous monikers." Moniker? Seriously? What had been shoved up this woman's ass? And who the hell could I call to get it out, seriously.

"Alright. Norville Rodgers, then."

"Right this way," she sniffed before storming off much faster than was strictly necessary.

I couldn't believe that I was stuck doing shit for this case, _again_. If it wasn't a pawn shop or being lost in a school, it was volunteering at a damn campaign headquarters. Velma had insisted that we needed to get a first-hand experience of Walter Blake himself, and this was her brilliant plan for doing it. Of course she wouldn't have done it herself, she was much too busy. Granted, the only volunteer times were during the school day and she wasn't the type to skip, but still. It was always me saving the day.

"You're going to be addressing envelopes, which will be used to send out candidate information to Walter Blake's constituents," Prissy Penelope informed me. "The information is in the computer, but Mr. Blake feels that having the address hand-written gives off a better sense of how much he cares for the voters."

But he wasn't the one writing the addresses down, I wanted to point out. But that wasn't why I was there. I was there to shut up and try to get a front row look at our suspect.

"I'll leave you to it," she sniffed, before turning and walking away.

Well, I certainly seemed to be in for a fun day.

l-l-l-l-l-l-l-

I couldn't believe I was back here. Again.

It was day three of addressing envelopes, and I was pretty sure that I was losing my mind. Because I'd come back. Willingly. That's right, after the first day, Velma had given me a very nice and clean out- saying that I didn't have to go back if I didn't want to. And I should have, could have easily, told her that I didn't want to, and that would have been the end of it. Why hadn't I told her that? Because I was an idiot, apparently. I'd told her that I'd keep at it until I saw Blake. Damn me and my helpfulness.

Writing random addresses on envelopes for six hours a day for three days was ridiculously boring- who knew? Oh, other than everyone.

"Mr. Blake is coming in today, so try to be on your best behavior," Prissy Penelope came over and snapped at me. Right, because so far I'd just been the picture of unruly behavior.

But still, this was good news. "Does he come around often."

"We're a very important aspect of Mr. Blake's campaign, Norville," she sneered at me. "Of course he recognizes this and comes around to show his appreciation as much as he is able with his incredibly busy schedule. He _is_ a state senator, you know."

"Right." How stupid did I look to this woman?

She stomped off, and I didn't really have anything better to do before Walt showed up, so I went back to addressing the damn envelopes. It wasn't until a whole other hour passed that the man finally decided to grace us with his presence.

"Thank you all for taking the time out of you're busy lives to assist me with this," he grinned that politician smile- the one that both made him seem genuine and made you question his sincerity. "Really, you all are what makes my re-election possible. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

There was a smattering of applause, the majority of which coming from Prissy Penelope herself. Figures.

"Now, I do have to speak to my associate, Mr. Idiomora for a moment, is there a place that we can do that? Privately?"

Prissy Penelope was all too happy to bring Mr. Blake and the man that he had walked in with towards a small meeting room at the back of the center. That was it? That was all that I was going to get from Walter Blake? No way, that shit was not worth three days of writing and a hand cramped this bad. Nope, I was getting in and listening to that conversation. I had to.

It wasn't that hard to eavesdrop, looking back on it. It probably should have taken a lot more effort on my part to get into that conversation. Maybe Mr. Blake needed to invest in some more secure locations for his skeevy meetings, because all I had to do was stand at the water cooler that was conveniently located near the door of the meeting room and I could hear every word.

"They're posing a serious problem for me! Do you think its good to have protests against me in my own home town?"

"Its a relatively low-key event, sir. They're hardly making contact with anyone, in the grand scheme of things they're hardly important."

"How about I say what is important? These vermin are taking to the streets, spreading filth about me, and I won't have it. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

"If the press catches wind of this, it could easily be disastrous for my career. And I will not stand for that."

"Agreed."

"Good. So you'll do what needs to be done?"

"I'll take care of it sir."

Prissy Penelope had chosen that moment to shout, "Norville! You still have plenty of blank envelopes to fill, I'm sure! Get back to it!"

So I didn't really have a chance to hear any more, but what I had heard was enough, at least to me. And hopefully it would make Velma happy too. Happy enough to involve Fred, which would effectively keep me out of it from here on out.

Maybe Walter Blake was the killer, maybe he wasn't. But one thing was sure: he wasn't a good guy.

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading, everyone. Smooches for all of you!**


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